Whispers in the Dark
by OmbreDesDieux
Summary: Morgan never intended to live in New York City. Haggard and broken, she is simply doing her best to hide in plain sight. Unbeknownst to her, she has caught the eye of a certain vigilante and watching over her has become his personal vendetta. But that's for the best because her enemies are his and it's only a matter of time before they start coming for her out of the darkness.
1. Angel

Chapter 1 Angel

Morgan climbed the empty stairs to the roof of her workplace, listening to the sound of her heavy snow boots echo up the shaft of the metal, industrial stairway. She grimaced at what she heard. Still two more floors to the top.

She plodded steadily upward, wishing for the thousandth time that the smokers didn't contaminate the entire outdoor courtyard below. Her heightened senses meant she couldn't stand the acrid smell. But, she reflected as she reached the summit, she wanted to be alone and the park-like space in the center of their building drew far too social a crowd, even in the dead of winter.

Snow fell again today sealing the door to the rooftop but when she leaned her whole body against the heavy metal barrier it gave, creating a soft crested wave in the powdery cold wetness. Morgan made a mental note to be careful when she came this way again tomorrow. The space the door scraped clear would be a frozen, dangerous icy patch and she didn't need to add a broken bone to her ever expanding list of worries.

With a deep breath, she pushed those worries away and left the scant shelter of the stairwell door, advancing into the brisk winter air. Her booted feet made soft crunching noises in the snow which paired harmoniously with the whistling call of the breeze through the nearby aluminum vents. She shivered slightly at the forlorn song.

Exactly twenty-five paces later she stopped and placed her mittened hands on the metal railing at the roof's edge, resting them lightly.

It was cold and impersonal up here in the icy grip of the North wind, but Morgan craved the isolation. She retreated to this space every day during her break and never regretted it. No one followed her up here. Except for the occasional stray pigeon, she was alone.

Small vibrations of the railing under her hands let her know one landed nearby, its quiet coo a soothing balm to her overtaxed ears. In other cities, it might be strange to encounter a bird out this late. In New York, the lights provided a false sense of daytime which allowed even second shift workers, like herself, to appreciate some wildlife.

She reached into her coat pocket and fished out a small plastic bag full of crusts carefully saved from the last loaf of stale bread in her apartment. She wouldn't be able to afford another until Friday when her paycheck cleared, but she couldn't begrudge her little feathered friends a snack in this weather.

She shivered a little as she removed her mitten and spread a substantial amount of crumbs on the snow around her. The soft flutter of wings, as the bird availed itself of her generosity, made her smile. She needed this quiet time, this calming break in her routine.

Aside from the wind, the only other sound up here was the constant on than off buzz of the neon sign of her workplace. Its continual cycling like the heartbeat of the building.

Reminding her, no matter how hard she tried to escape the daily grind, it still waited for her below.

Morgan sighed. Her position as a phone response agent for Angel Automotive Insurance meant she spent most of her time speaking to annoyed and upset motorists. Not her favorite pastime.

Somehow her life had become an endless parade of unknown strangers who locked themselves out of a car, slid into another vehicle, or wanted to be an ass about the damage a salt truck did as it passed by during the night.

Who knew winter caused so many problems for motorists? Summer would bring its own crop of issues, she was sure. It seemed, to her, a little too much to assume such a small premium should cover all the inconveniences of life. But she was a bit biased.

Morgan didn't own a car for a variety of reasons. For one, they were expensive to maintain, let alone park. Besides, she didn't need one. Getting around NYC was easy. Subways, buses, and taxis would do in a pinch, but she preferred traveling on her own two feet. They were dependable, affordable, and not tethered to any sort of timetable. Plus, she lived little more than a 20-minute walk away, so she was content.

She turned her back on the city and leaned against the railing, lifting her face towards the sky and closing her eyes. If she concentrated hard, she could feel the cool tingle as her breath misted in the icy air and fell down around her. Moments later an additional soft brush across her cheek announced the arrival of tiny snowflakes, falling from the heights once more.

The snow stuck to the curly hair peeking out around the edges of her fuzzy, knitted hat. She knew the cap looked plain and shapeless, but she didn't need anything fancy. She was grateful it kept her head warm and her hair mostly dry. Besides, it matched the worn material of her coat and scarf making the whole ensemble seem, at least slightly intentional.

A tiny chime from the watch on her wrist declared its five-minute warning and her mood changed abruptly as her break ended. She sighed taking one last deep breath of the crisp winter air before trudging back toward the stairwell and her life.

She had just reached the shelter of the doorway and resigned herself to the effort it would take to pry the heavy steel access open again when warmth from inside the building hit her face. She stepped back, surprised at the already open door.

"Hello?" she inquired, tilting her head.

She had not heard anything indicating another person, but for one fleeting moment, she sensed curious eyes upon her. Intense and warm, this felt like nothing she'd ever experienced before.

She froze. Was someone up here after all?

Shrugging off the momentary sense of unease, Morgan decided the door had simply stuck open when she came out earlier. Grateful she wouldn't have to struggle with it, she slipped back into the welcoming warmth and made sure it closed behind her.

* * *

After she left, he let out the breath he'd been holding and stepped from his hiding place among the shadows. He knew damn well he should not have interacted with her, but she struggled so much on her way out, he couldn't help himself. When she dragged herself back to the door with slumped shoulders and a subdued look on her face, he raced in front of her and silently braced it open.

Despite his own better judgment, he had lingered when the young woman first came out. Even when it looked like she intended to stay for more than a quick cigarette break. She strode from the warmth of the stairwell with a precision, grace, and confidence he'd seldom seen in a human, outside of a well trained assassin.

She fascinated him, but he did not forget his training. He remained out of sight and observed warily.

This petite female seemed consumed by the overly large and shapeless winter clothes she wore. Her dark coat and hat were bland against the snow; muted olive, brown, and black. And she blended with the other shadowy shapes on the rooftop almost perfectly. If he hadn't seen her emerge, he might have missed her presence altogether.

A faded red scarf tied just under her chin implied an attempt at brightening up the outfit, but even it showed wear, raveling all around the edges. The whole ensemble screamed 'cast-offs' and didn't fit her well at all.

Not that he should judge. Money was hard to come by in all walks of life these days.

As he watched her from the shadows, her pale porcelain skin and the soft curls that peeked out from under her hat struck him in stark contrast to the drab colors of her clothes. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold and her eyes glistened in the bright neon light from the flashing sign above them.

Even more striking was the way she appeared to absorb the night. She relished the silence, took it in, and projected it back out again in calming, peaceful waves that soothed even his savage soul.

The more he observed, the more interested he became. The curious way she held herself intrigued him. Her mittened hands rested softly on the railing as if seeking information and she tilted her head first left, then right in a birdlike manner.

As though summoned, a bird actually flew up to join her moments later. The small grey pigeon was common enough throughout the city, but she treated it with reverence. Gently, she reached into her coat pocket and spread out a sumptuous feast of bread crumbs for it in the snow around her feet. Despite her obvious lack of funds, she was generous with what she had. He found himself nodding silently in approval.

And then she smiled.

Time stood still as the small upturn of her lips lifted her face from merely pretty to incredible. He stood frozen to the spot, dumbfounded in its glow. What he wouldn't give to have a smile like that directed at him.

Anger flared. He growled and shook himself to break out of the spell. What was he thinking? She might not be rich, but she was employed. Trouble did not stalk her every move. People like her, with jobs and a quiet life, did not need him. And he certainly did not need her.

Frustrated with his thoughts, he tore his eyes away and cast an annoyed glance around the rooftop for something to divert his attention while he regained his bearings. He couldn't leave his hiding place until she went back inside and that added to his irritation.

 _Why did I delay? This girl is nothing but a distraction._

Trying to focus on anything but her, his eyes landed on the neon logo above her head, blinking "Angel" over and over again. As if he needed to have that pointed out to him in large glowing letters. He snorted at this 'sign from above' then stilled himself as she tilted her head in his direction. Her perceptions were sharp.

Eventually satisfied she was alone, she leaned back on the railing and turned her face to the night sky. His breath caught. Had he really thought her merely pretty moments ago? Beauty was all he saw now in the light of the blinking sign.

Her features were pixie-like with large eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a tiny upturned nose. Brunette, almost auburn, curls softened her face and trapped the small white flakes of snow just beginning to fall again in a scene so serene it was almost magical. He stared, entranced, losing himself in the view, his irritation melting away.

A small chime from her watch interrupted their joint reverie. She sighed, opened her eyes, and began to trudge resolutely back toward the stairwell. That was when he'd decided to open the door.

A little gesture of kindness in return for sharing a moment of her serenity.

When the girl realized the door was ajar, she stopped in confusion. A soft hello broke the silence and almost startled him into motion. Her smooth, low, tone held a cautious edge that made him suddenly reconsidered his earlier notion.

 _She might be in danger after all._

She tensed, as if expecting a blow, then flinched in the golden yellow rectangle of light shining through the open door. When nothing occurred, her shoulders relaxed again and she slipped inside out of the darkness of the night.

He eyed the dull green door curiously as she closed it with extreme care behind her, wondering at her reaction. But he didn't have long to consider it. A vibration distracted him and he check his phone as he emerged from the shadows.

A text prompted him for an update and he huffed, irritated, as he sent the all clear for his portion of the patrol so far. There were still two hours left and several miles to go before he could call it a night and get out of this despicable cold.

 _God, I hate winter._

Tonight, though, he had forgotten it for a time. An angel showed him the beauty in the silence and stillness. Serenity, it seemed, could be found almost anywhere if you were open to it.

 _Even in New York._

After his patrol, he would come back this way. She worked the second shift so she should be finished by then and headed home. He wanted to escort her safely there. This neighborhood wasn't too bad but why should she have to brave it alone in the dark?

His route and course of action decided he turned and dashed toward the edge of the building, leaping the gap to the next in a smooth, agile movement. He didn't fear leaving footprints in the snow. His oversized leather boots left irregular melted marks which defied analysis and were strangely quiet.

Silence was his constant companion and the only sound that marred his passing was the soft rustle of the cloth he wore as a mask around his eyes. The crimson fabric that marked him as Raphael.


	2. Going Home

**Going Home**

"No, sir... I'm sorry, sir... I can tell you're upset, but you need to slow down. I can't understand what you're saying."

Morgan silently celebrated as her watch sounded the five minute warning signaling the end of her work day, desperate for the reprieve. Despite her earlier calm, today had been a doozy.

"No sir, I'm afraid your policy doesn't cover a woman ramming your SUV in the parking lot with an animated reindeer, justified or not."

The loud squawking of the gentleman on the other end of the line cut her off, demanding to speak with her superior. She smiled, now off the hook for the rest of the evening.

"Of course, sir, let me put you on with him," she said, putting the call on hold.

"Patrick! Another decoration damage report on line four," she yelled to her superior across the room.

She grabbed her coat, in a hurry to get out of this madhouse. Two weeks until Christmas. Her co-workers told her to hang in there, saying afterward things would calm down. The holidays always made the crazies worse for some reason.

She wasn't sure she would last.

Picking up her hat, handbag, and scarf she headed out the door, joining the flow of other employees leaving the building before Patrick could call her back.

She paused when she hit the street to grab a breath of fresh air. Fresh being a relative word in New York. At least the breeze was cold and the press of people out and about thinned to the smaller number who left work, like her, at 10pm.

Satisfied with the crowd, she turned left, walked at a measured pace to the next street then turned North. Two blocks further, crossing carefully with other pedestrians, found her outside the atrium of a large office complex. She ducked inside, bypassing the revolving door and using the handicapped entrance. She strode straight through, past the security guard, and made a beeline for the opposite door.

"Evening Emma," the officer called. "Headed home?"

"Yup," Morgan answered without pausing. "Just stoppin' at the deli on my way."

Morgan hated the name Emma and wished whoever assigned it to her a very soggy Christmas. The opportunity to choose, when Witness Protection deemed it necessary to change hers, had never materialized. Instead, some bureaucrat arbitrarily assigned her one.

Despite her distaste for the new name, she did enjoy this extra layer of protection. The guard at this time of night was undercover FBI. If she replied with the other phrase, "Callin' for Chinese takeout tonight," All hell should break loose and this guy would take her somewhere safe.

At least, that's what she understood. The deli declared everything was status quo, as far as she could tell, so they didn't need to hover so close. Of course, there were probably layers of protection she didn't know about. She hoped so.

It helped that she kept a low profile, staying in a tiny apartment in a semi-normal neighborhood. And hey, if you couldn't hide in a city of 8.4 million people, where could you hide?

Charlie would probably not search for her here. New York was as far away from Los Angeles as she could get and still stay in the U.S. and she recalled how often he ranted with immeasurable disgust about the squalor and filth of this city. He would never willingly came here. She thought he secretly feared the rats, so he always sent his lieutenants instead.

They were easy to avoid, the rats and lieutenants both. The men never went anywhere that wasn't business or pleasure related, so as long as she stayed out of bars, strip joints, and the docks she shouldn't run into any of them.

Rats she actually liked, having kept them as pets most of her childhood. Intelligent and aloof, they wouldn't bother you unless you happened to stumble upon their lair. Then they tended to defend their nests and their young rather violently.

Charlie's other contacts concerned her far more. On occasion, he'd spoken of an entire secret underground network of armed men, assassins, he could call at need. She knew they were based somewhere on the east coast, but not much else. Except she did know their name. They called themselves the Foot.

Morgan shook her head and focused her concentration back on the street in front of her. If she kept getting lost in her thoughts this way she would end up lost in truth. Two more rights, then she unlocked a gate in a chain-link fence and took the alley behind it to the rear of an apartment building.

She pressed the button for 3F and waited.

"Evening Emma," came out of the wall speaker and Morgan grimaced.

"Hi," she said. "Time for bed. Want to buzz me in?"

Code again. "Time for bed" meant she planned to stay in tonight and not go out again. Deciding to go out after this checkpoint, required leaving a phone message on a machine somewhere.

The buzzer sounded and she opened the door. She marched straight past the lower apartments, made a right, and exited the side door at the end of the long hall. Back outside, she kicked piles of dirty snow on the curb and walked more slowly up another two blocks.

Still a block away from her actual apartment building, she froze on the sidewalk.

Someone was watching her. She couldn't locate the watcher, but the hair standing up on the back of her neck said they were pretty close. Listening intently to the sounds around her, she began cataloging the traffic.

Two cars owned by residents who avoided the potholes, a cab speeding through way too fast, and an undercover car creeping by, were the only vehicles on the street. The undercover paused next to her but she waved them on.

No people flanked her on the sidewalk, so she chalked it up to a fit of nerves and continued on, knowing the undercover would circle the block a couple of times before heading out.

She reached her apartment building, entered the foyer and stamped the snow off her boots on the rug provided. Running her hands over the mailboxes, she counted from the right until she found hers and unlocked it. The envelopes contained credit offers and bills, but it made her feel a little more normal to get mail here. Like she might actually be a person conducting her life instead of one hiding from it.

"Evening Emma,"

She sighed at the name, but smiled and nodded in a friendly manner at the old timer sitting behind the desk. He wasn't a doorman, as such, but one of the downstairs tenants who couldn't seem to stay inside his own apartment. He hated being all cooped up inside with no one to talk to so he sat out most evenings to greet the others as they came in from work.

He knew them all by sight and it offered another small measure of protection that he would mention if anyone strange came in today. Such a gossip could never resist telling the world whenever someone new stopped by, even a different delivery boy.

When he didn't pipe up with any news about his day, she figured everything was a-ok and passed by him to climb the five flights up to her tiny studio. Panting a little with the effort of climbing all those stairs, Morgan finally arrived at the door of her home.

 _At least with this many stairs in my life I'll never need a gym membership._

She paused outside her door and turned her head toward the window at the end of the hall. A soft clang from the fire escape caught her attention. Concern furrowed her brow, but she shook it off and entered her apartment

 _Morgan, you are jumping at everything tonight. It was probably a cat._

She had reason enough to be jumpy but really. Five months now in New York, with all these ridiculous safety precautions, checkpoints, and code words. She couldn't get any safer unless they confined her in some windowless room under 24-hour guard. Not that they hadn't suggested it, but she put her foot down.

Living like a prisoner, shaking in fear somewhere while Charlie lived like a king was not how she wanted to spend her time. She didn't care if she was the star witness against him. She, Morgan Alexandra Jennings, was going to do something with her life. Even if it was annoying, complicated, and extremely frustrating to do so.

* * *

Raphael balanced on the fancy, black, wrought iron fire escape of an older, but not too rundown, red-brick tenement building and peered through the tinted window of the hallway, now thoroughly intrigued with his quarry. He had been right about her second shift work and easily located her by the dark red scarf when she exited with the others.

This should have been a quick errand. Follow the angel until she caught a cab or entered one of the many nearby apartment complexes, then call it a day. She had started up the street normally enough and he ghosted along above her on the rooftops.

A couple of streets over she confused him by ducking into an office building.

 _What could she want there at this late hour?_

Luckily the glass ceiling of the atrium allowed him to keep track of her as she crossed through the brightly light space, her worn clothing out of place in the modern entryway. She exchanged a few words with a security guard and passed right on through to the other side of the block.

 _Huh. Must be a short cut._

Quickening her pace, she headed up the street and made two right turns, putting her back on the same block she just left, negating the shortcut through the office building.

 _Where the hell was she trying to go? Was the girl lost?_

She didn't seem to be. She walked with her head up, purpose in her stride, and didn't stop to check any street signs. This was odd behavior, not natural for a native of the city or a tourist.

She stopped in front of an alley with a gate, adjusted her red scarf around her face and withdrew a large silver key from her pocket. A short tan-colored apartment block squatted at the end of the narrow path, but he wanted to make sure this was, indeed, the place before he left her because something strange was going on.

This quiet, lovely, girl with the unusual route home aroused his curiosity.

She stopped at an old, green door and rang the buzzer. Odd, if she lived here, wouldn't she have a key? He drew closer and strained his ears to hear what was said three stories below.

"Evening Emma,"

A mechanical voice came out of the box on the wall.

 _Emma... that name doesn't really fit her._

"Hi," she replied in a hushed tone. "Time for bed, you wanna buzz me in?"

 _She lives with someone. Of course she does. A woman like her wouldn't lack for companionship. Well, at least I made sure she got home ok_.

The door buzzed and she hurried inside.

 _Best to call it a night and head for the nearest manhole._

The sound of another door caught his attention and he sprinted to the side of the building, peering down into the alley.

 _What the... She's leavin' again?_

The brown side door slammed shut as she walked up the street with the same purposeful stride, although she stopped here and there to kick at some dirty, yellowish piles of snow.

 _What the hell is going on here?_

Two blocks further and he got careless. Before he'd kept a careful distance, checking her position only occasionally. Now, afraid he'd lose her on her circuitous route, he stared a hole in the back of her head.

She noticed. She stood stock still in the middle of the sidewalk under a streetlamp for a few minutes, her dark silhouette shivering in the cold. He felt bad about that. She might still be moving and warm if it hadn't been for him.

Several cars and a classic yellow NYC cab passed her before a small red vehicle slowed. He eyed it intently from the rooftop and prepared to move. If whoever that was tried to grab her they were going to get a huge surprise. But eventually, the car glided on.

Finally, she started moving at a slower pace up the block and entered the front of an older apartment complex. He sprinted to the building and did a quick circuit of the roof line, checking for side and back doors, but she didn't emerge again.

She must live here. Now he had to find the floor.

Why, he didn't know, but he felt a pressing need to determine exactly which one she lived on. A handy fire escape offered a view into the halls and he leapt over the edge to the top level. Floor number five. She came up the stairs, dragging her feet on the builder's beige carpet, as he landed.

Unfortunately, she heard him.

 _Man, the girl has good ears._

She narrowed her eyes toward the window but didn't move to investigate. Finally, she turned the key and let herself into apartment 5C. The moment she disappeared, he peered down the hall again.

No one else in sight.

He grabbed his phone and shot a few stills through the window, making sure to cover the stairs and the number on her door. Next, he marked the building's location on his GPS.

Partly this was training. Always cautious, always scouting, a ninja had to be intimately familiar with his surroundings; a mutated ninja turtle, doubly so. However, this particular case was more along the lines of instinct. A deeper, internal prompting required he learn more.

With nothing else to glean from the fire escape, he climbed back to the roof and strode rapidly to the side of the building her window faced. No fire escape graced this side, but the beauty of New York for someone with his skills was there were always other vantage points.

The next building over was taller than hers and under extensive repair. It boasted scaffolding covered with mesh and offered an excellent view of her floor plus the benefit of concealment. Less than a minute later he settled himself comfortably in front of the apartment she occupied.

He wasn't surprised to find her place contained only one room. Most of the larger apartments in this area would be far out of reach for someone in her pay grade.

He couldn't tell much more, as she glided up to the window and closed the blinds. Flushing as red as his mask, he turned away quickly as her silhouette began to undress, her shadowy hands grasping the edge of her shirt to pull it over her head.

He wasn't there to intrude on her privacy. In fact, he wasn't sure why he was there at all. She had, after all, reached home safely and despite her strange route, seemed about as normal as anyone in this insane town.

Disconcerted by the amount of time he'd spent following one regular girl this evening, he spun on his foot and launched himself up to the next level.

It was long past time he was going home.


	3. Hectic Holidays

Morgan stood in front of her closet and ran her hand over the small collection of dresses she owned. A grand total of three resided there; the soft, stretch velvet sheath from a cheap club-wear shop down the road, a sequined dress bought after prom season at the local thrift store, and the flowing A-line ensemble her friend Samantha gave her before she left Los Angeles.

One of the few items of clothing she kept from her old life, the A-line was safe only because Charlie had never seen it. She hadn't worn the outfit anywhere, in fact, only tried it on for Sam.

She missed Samantha. They had hit it off right away when she first moved to L.A. and they'd been best friends for six years. Sam gave her the dress for her birthday in July, saying Morgan needed something "hot" to go out in. She continuously tried to engage Morgan in the social happenings of L.A., even as Charlie took control of every aspect of her life.

Morgan sighed. What had Sam thought about her disappearance? She wondered if Sam blamed Charlie, or worse, thought he killed her. But it was no use worrying. Contacting anyone she knew from before would be a drastic mistake.

Even if the federal agents hadn't made that clear, she wouldn't have dared anyway. Charlie knew Sam and Morgan didn't want him leaning on her for information. Sam was safer not knowing.

Morgan dragged her mind back to the present and pulled out the stretch velvet dress for the 'event'. The sheathe was the closest thing to a cocktail gown she owned and tonight required formal wear. The corporate Christmas party for Vallen Industries, the parent company of Angel Automotive Insurance, promised to be the event of the season.

Vallen, a large conglomerate with its fingers in a little bit of everyone's pie, boasted divisions spanning everything from banking to biotechnology. Tonight's Christmas gala should be a spectacular celebration on a scale Morgan had never experienced.

Surprised at the invitation, she double checked with her boss, since she was one of the newest phone reps at Angel, but her entire floor was going due to record earnings this year. Her Witness Protection agents, duly informed of the invitation, gave the all clear to attend.

Morgan couldn't wait. Tonight was her first chance to get out and meet people since she came here. She may have to stay in hiding but that didn't necessitate acting like a hermit.

It was Friday and this party marked her first big outing in the city, so she decided to dip into her savings and dress up for the occasion. The first stop on her list today - a new accessories shop.

"Bling 'n Things" was owned by the daughter of her boss. For weeks, he had told the girls at work about the fun, inexpensive, jewelry she carried and Morgan decided to check it out. Bleecker Street wasn't far, after all, and the spoken directions from her smartphone got her there in no time.

The shop, tiny but chock full of products, overwhelmed Morgan. She wandered the rows, fingering a bewildering array of jewelry pieces when a bright female voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I noticed you're having trouble deciding. Perhaps I could help?" The cheery woman said.

"It's crazy, there are so many options here and I don't wear much jewelry. I don't know what to choose. I'd love your assistance," Morgan said. "Do you work here?"

"No," the woman laughed, "Thank goodness, or I'd have one of everything filling up my apartment. I'm like a magpie, I can't resist the pull of all things sparkly. But I adore accessories and I'd be happy to help you. Are you headed to a Christmas party?"

"First corporate event in NYC!" Morgan said. "It's a big deal for me. I don't get out much and this party is supposed to be in a fancy ballroom downtown. The Vallen Industries Gala?"

The woman laughed again, a happy sound, light and carefree. Morgan couldn't remember the last time she did that. Every emotion she displayed was restrained these days.

"I'm going to be there too! I've got to cover the president's new product announcements for Channel 6," she said.

"Oh! Are you a reporter?" Morgan asked. Warning bells sounded in her head. She didn't need her face plastered across the evening news, though she doubted the woman brought a camera crew shopping.

"Sorry, I should have introduced myself. I'm April O'Neil. I used to work for Channel 6 full time, but now I freelance for all the networks. It's better hours, I get to choose the stories I'll cover, and it gives me time to run my other business," April said.

"Wow, that sounds... hectic. I don't do anything exciting. I'm just a phone rep at a smaller insurance company," Morgan said, keeping her response vague. "What's your other business?"

"Antiques," April replied. "I used to have a small shop right here on Bleecker Street. But after the fire, well, nothing survived. So now I'm kind of doing that freelance too. I spend a lot of time tracking down rare collectibles for people with far more money than sense.

But enough about me, what are you wearing tonight?"

Morgan walked out of the store in an amazing mood. She'd met a sweet, normal woman with nothing to hide. Someone who might turn out to be a good friend and April helped her pick out the perfect accessory for the party, a silky scarf to dress up her outfit.

Feeling better than she had in weeks, Morgan headed off to the $20 hair and nail salon just down the block from her apartment. Time for a beauty makeover, then home to dress before she caught a cab to the main event.

* * *

December is a crappy time to have a fancy party in New York, Morgan decided as she exited the cab several blocks up from the venue. The traffic jam from the guests left her no way to get any closer.

Now she concentrated on her feet, clicking her way down the block with extreme caution in her heels, shivering in her soft shawl. Even in this cold, the thin shawl as outerwear had been her only option. Her lumpy, wool coat would scream the fact she did not belong in this illustrious crowd.

She gripped her tiny handbag containing the invitation close and repeated to herself how unlikely it was for anyone here to recognize her. Though, out on the street, she was more uncertain of her choice to be here. She paused as, even lost in this huge number of people, she felt like someone watched her.

 _Nonsense Morgan._

She took herself firmly in hand. She had been cleared for this event and gosh darn it, she was going to do her best to enjoy it. Besides, her new friend was here somewhere and promised to try and meet up with her tonight. An exhilarating evening awaited and she would not ruin it with nerves.

She moved along with the group until her turn at the door where a security officer checked her id, invitation, and purse. Even this tiny bit of obvious protection helped to reassure her no sneaky assassins would be lurking on the dance floor.

* * *

Raphael rested on the rooftop, his posture relaxed, waiting for April to emerge from the building across the way. He'd positioned himself so he wouldn't be spotted from below but could monitor the guests as they came and went from the Vallen Corp over the top extravaganza that was supposed to pass for a holiday party.

April had been keeping tabs on Vallen for the past few weeks at Donatello's request and she insisted that tonight's venture was safe. She'd managed to arrange an interview with the CEO, granting her a prime opportunity to clone his phone. That way Donatello could monitor Vallen and evaluate how criminal they really were.

Raphael's brainy brother had found some disturbing evidence online implying Vallen Corp might be the new front for their old nemesis, but he wanted positive confirmation before they moved on the building.

April volunteered for the mission, despite Raphael's objections. He was concerned for her safety, even in the midst of such a crowd but her mind was made up. There was nothing for it but to go with her.

Of course they wouldn't go inside unless she signaled danger but each of them patrolled a different side of the building, combining a scouting mission with the very real need to make sure their human friend remained undiscovered.

Raphael examined the people as they gathered and made their way into the building to celebrate. He never understood this urge humans felt to come together in large groups of strangers to show off their possessions and accomplishments. He much preferred spending the holidays with his father and brothers, it was a more meaningful gathering than this crowd.

He scrutinized the stream of humanity, looking for any familiar criminal faces or telltale signs indicating a foot ninja in disguise. Usually easy to spot, their training made them move with more assurance than the average person plodding along.

So far, he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. A few drunk college kids tried to get in but they were turned back by building security. Otherwise it had been quiet.

He cast his gaze over the crowd again and a figure that moved a little too gracefully caught his attention. A woman, dressed, as many were, in clothing entirely inappropriate for the weather. She wore a long, black dress that hugged her curves and gold strappy heels with a thin shawl wrapped around her arms.

Raphael reached up and flipped down the magnifier on the headgear Don provided to each of them. Her face came into sharp focus and he gave an involuntary little gasp. He recognized her.

 _The angel._

She struck him as even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was fastened into an elaborate style with brunette curls cascading down one side over her shoulder and woven through with thin teal and gold ribbons. She wore glittering eye makeup in matching shades of blue, purple, and yellow which made her eyes flash startlingly. And he was reminded again of how gracefully she moved. Even in heels and shivering from the cold, she glided over the pavement as if walking on air.

 _But what is she doing here?_

She turned her face in his direction and only the sure knowledge he couldn't be seen from her vantage point kept him from moving. Her shoulders hunched a little in a defensive posture and he wondered if she might be thinking about leaving, but moments later she straightened up and carried on past the checkpoint into the building.

Raph tapped his bluetooth headset.

"Donnie," he said. "Any idea how the guest list for this shindig was compiled?"

"It's their end-of-year party," Don replied. "The server I hacked showed a pretty even distribution of guests from each of their divisions. Plus a heaping helping of the rich and famous. Why? You see someone out of place?"

"Nah," Raph deflected. "Just seemed like a large number of ordinary folk heading in. Anyone see something more interesting?"

He cringed when he said 'ordinary', the angel was far from it. But there was no reason to reveal her to his brothers. Despite her grace, he was sure from his previous observations she posed no threat.

"Nothing much yet," Michelangelo said over the headset.

"All clear on this side too," Leonardo said. "Keep a sharp eye out guys. It may be quiet now, but we all know how fast that can change."

Raphael knew all too well and now he had two human girls in the building to worry about.

* * *

Morgan made her way into the party, following the happy voices around her and found an out of the way spot where she could rest for a moment and get her bearings. Inside was completely the opposite of the chaos reigning outdoors. A warm, subdued room was filled with quietly chatting guests and a small string ensemble that played soft, baroque carols.

A waiter with a tray full of beverages approached and offered her a glass of sweet white wine. She loved wine but lacked the cash to purchase any since her move, so this was a rare treat. Wine was the one thing she missed the most about California she thought wryly, availing herself of a glass.

It wasn't the luxurious lifestyle, or the warm weather she missed, but Charlie's wine cellar. Not that she overindulged, but she appreciated a good vintage and he boasted a selection of the best; though he never took advantage of it.

She shook her head at her thoughts and went back to her perusal of the space.

A large holiday tree dominated the room, over decorated she was sure, in the style so prevalent at the moment. The heavy scent of its branches proclaimed it fresh cut while the tinkle of crystals and glass baubles declared opulence in the lighting and decorations upon it.

As impressive as it seemed, this room was merely the foyer. A large ballroom room where they would dine and dance tonight connected around here somewhere. Morgan hoped April or one of the girls from her office would show up soon. It's always easier to infiltrate a group if you weren't alone.

Unfortunately, Roman found her first.

Roman sat in the cube across from her at work and leered at her all day long. She hadn't caught him leering herself but Sue, who occupied the next desk over, warned her. Morgan didn't like him much anyway. For some reason, he always smelled of pastrami and he projected an overbearing attitude.

"Emma!" Roman said, chuckling while walking over to her little out of the way corner. "You're looking much too pretty to be a wallflower at this party. Let me take you to our group in the lounge."

"Roman," Morgan said, nodding to him, her voice as icy as her drink. "Thank you, but I'm waiting for a friend."

"I'll wait with you," he replied, undeterred. "Can't have anyone taking advantage of our little Emma now can we?"

An ironic statement since Roman leaned in close to examine her bodice.

"Roman," she tapped him on the shoulder, "eyes are up here." She reminded him and felt him jerk upright again.

"I was... uh...just looking at your pin," he said. "Is it a turtle?"

She brought a hand to her broach and gently stroked the vintage piece. The turtle consisted of a bronzy cast metal body with mother-of-pearl inlay in tiny hexagon patterns all over the shell and ruby eyes.

A final gift from her birth mother, she had worn the piece all her life. Usually it resided under her clothes next to her skin, but April helped her convert the pendant to a pin for this evening and selected a long scarf to match.

Right now the scarf draped across her upper back, wrapped around the velvet straps of her dress loosely at the shoulder, crisscrossed her bodice, and tied behind her before trailing down. The turtle held a section pinned at the point of the 'V' of her gown.

She was nervous about wearing the unique broach so openly, some agent of Charlie's might recognize it, but on second thought doubted Charlie even remembered. Besides she always took it off before...

Best not to go there right now. She couldn't afford a screaming fit in this crowd of people. Finally remembering she was in the middle of a conversation, albeit one she wished she wasn't having she replied.

"Yes. I like turtles."

"Pretty," he said. "But aren't turtles like slow and stuff?"

She rolled her eyes. That was Roman-stunning conversationalist.

"Actually, the turtle is an ancient symbol representing creation, endurance, determination, strength, stability, longevity, and innocence. And some species can move extremely fast, especially in the water."

"Ah," Roman said. His bland tone indicated his enthusiasm for the topic was waning, with her emphatic defense of the species. April chose that moment to hurry up to her.

"Emma!" she exclaimed, grabbing Morgan's hands, "You look absolutely perfect!"

"It came out wonderful, thanks to you." Morgan said, smiling and giving a little twirl. She grabbed April's hand and tugged her toward the ballroom, calling, "See you at work," to Roman as she made her escape.

"Who was that?" April asked in an undertone.

"Creepy coworker," Morgan replied out of the side of her mouth with a little shudder. "You showed up in the nick of time. He was trying to sweep me off to join his 'friends' in the lounge."

"Ack!" April said, "No one has a stalker on their Christmas list. I'll be on guard for him tonight. We'll keep you out of reach."

Morgan laughed for the first time in what seemed like months.

"Thanks April. How did the interview go?"

"Boring! Typical, egomaniacal CEO wants the world to know how wonderful he is, living vicariously through his company, blah, blah, blah...But he does throw an awesome party!"

The dining room was enormous. The entry led right onto the dance floor with tables set off to either side. In the front was a small, stage where the DJ and the presenters would be. The tables were adorned with heavy silver flatware, fine china, and floral centerpieces that overwhelmed the enclosed space with their scent. April squee'd at them in girlish delight as she and Morgan made their way to the rear of the room.

April was checking placecards, but Morgan already knew where she would be sitting, the table closest to an unlikely exit. All deliberately pre-arranged as a precautionary measure by the agents watching over her. They briefed her thoroughly on the layout and location of everything in the ballroom before they granted her permission to attend.

Unfortunately, April wasn't sitting with Morgan, but that did not deter her. Without hesitation, or apparent guilt, April switched the card with her name for the person seated next to Morgan so they could stay together.

Morgan could not remember a better evening. She and April chatted and giggled their way through the night like much younger girls. They hit the dance floor several times, dared each other to lick the ice sculpture, and ate far too much dessert.

The clock struck eleven before Morgan was ready to call it a night. She'd enjoyed a little too much wine and the guests had grown more boisterous. The evening had been lovely but she longed for the peace and quiet of her own little apartment.

She gathered her things and leaned over to thank April for an awesome time when the music died and the crowd near the door began to panic. Morgan froze, her attention riveted on the disturbance.

Shouting and noise dominated the hall until a single gunshot rang out. In the following silence a man spoke. His voice was gravelly and reverberated in a way which made Morgan picture barrel chested drill sergeants.

"Hun," April whispered to herself and there was a small beep from her cell phone.

"Ladies and Gentleman," the voice said, "No need to panic. We are merely here to collect for those less fortunate this evening. Namely, us."

He laughed.

"So be generous with your wallets and jewels. Also, it has come to our attention that a certain young woman may be in attendance as well. She will be coming with us. Now hurry along, gather your things and donate to these fine gentlemen so you can return to your regularly scheduled debauchery."

Morgan began to act as soon as the man started to speak. She couldn't be sure they were here for her but she wasn't going to stick around to find out. She slipped off her high heeled shoes and put on a pair of soft soled black slippers she carried in her purse. Then, she reached out and tugged on April's arm, putting her mouth close to the other girl's ear.

"Let's get out of here," Morgan said, keeping her voice as low as she could.

"How can we?" April whispered back. "It's pitch black. Not even any emergency lights. We can't see them and they have to be blocking the doors."

They must have cut the power when the music died. No wonder the crowd panicked.

"I know a way," Morgan replied, "Stay close to me."


	4. Getting Out

**Chapter 4 Getting Out**

Raphael glanced down and lit up his phone to check the time. The blue-green light was almost too bright after half a night of staring into a dark street, and it cast weird shifting shadows across his face. He frowned. It was getting late and he was waiting for April's final check in.

Things seemed to be going well, Donatello reported clear transmissions from the CEO and April had not seen anyone suspicious as she mingled with the other guests. She should be leaving soon and they could all call it a night.

He prepared to move out, blinking the spots from his eyes and checking his gear, making sure he hadn't left any traces in the snow or gravel of the rooftop, when his phone vibrated insanely and lit up all yellow.

 _April pressed her panic button!_

Something had gone terribly wrong. Before he could even finish the thought, Leonardo called them into action.

"Raph, you take the balcony entrance. Michelangelo and I have the roof, we'll work our way down. Donnie, get the van and sit tight, you're tactical." Leo commanded through the headset. "Any other word from April?"

"One short text," Don said. "Trapped in the 2nd floor ballroom. Confirmed with her phone's tracker."

Everyone moved out. April could usually take care of herself, but she was prone to taking unnecessary risks when she felt backed into a corner. They didn't know the situation yet, but didn't want her panicking into error.

"Another update," Don reported a moment later. "Lights out, shots fired. Hun and a band of Dragons."

Raphael growled as he raced toward his entry point, adrenaline pumping through him. Hun wasn't the brightest crayon in the box but he was mean and Raph didn't want him coming anywhere near the girls. The leader of the Purple Dragons had tried to kill April once already and only Casey's quick intervention had prevented her death.

That mountain of a man held grudges and he didn't like being thwarted. If he found April, he'd try to collect and Raph didn't even want to think about what the giant might do to the tiny, pixie-like girl he had followed.

 _I'm comin' girls_

He leapt the railing at the edge of his building, snatched at a drainpipe and slid down three floors. Pushing off the flaking metal, he backflipped to a nearby ledge of grey concrete, narrowing his focus to the next purple-shadowed step in his quest. A handy construction crane with a massive glistening steel beam provided the bridge he needed to reach his target. Seconds later, the glass door to the fifth floor balcony yielded to a sharp probe from the point of his sai and he tore it open, almost taking it off the hinges in his haste.

"I'm in," Raph said into his headset as he flattened himself against the wall and slunk through the darkness. "Lights out confirmed. Looks like the whole building's gone. No emergency generator either."

"Camera's are compromised," Don said. "They were tied to the power grid, so no fear of being recorded, but be careful. The building is crawling with people. Not to mention the bodyguards of the important guests."

"Copy that," Leo said. "Mikey and I are in on 12. We'll move down the west stairwell."

"Don, you see a back way into that ballroom?" Raph asked as he raced down the north side hall.

He fumbled with his headgear to switch on the night vision. Usually the brothers had no problem with the dark, but in this pitch black he wasn't sure he'd even recognize April if she stood in front of him. The hall came into focus right as a security guard came around the corner lighting his goggles all yellow and red.

 _Shit, there's nowhere to go..._

A quick jump saw Raph pressed shell to the ceiling, hands and feet mashed against the walls to either side of the hall. The guard blundered by underneath him, cursing at the dark.

"There's an access point in the northwest corner," Don said. "From your position take a right at the end of the hall. Three flights down is the kitchen. Pass through should be on your left."

"Got it," Raph said as he dropped to the floor and increased his pace.

* * *

"Emma? Where are we going?" April whispered as she crouched and followed Morgan to the nearest wall. Morgan reached back and took April's hand so she wouldn't lose her in the dark.

"A bit further," Morgan said. She trailed her hand over the surface on her left, brushing past the various draperies which made up the decor until she felt the texture change under her fingertips.

"Right here," she whispered. If the situation hadn't been so dire she would have cheered.

Under her probing hands a panel popped open. Morgan reached out and pulled April through as quickly as she could before shutting it behind her. She leaned against it, panting for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart. The concealed janitor's area was right where the agents had said it would be. Morgan heaved a sigh of relief. Now if the rest of the instructions were as good, she and April would be out of this building in minutes.

"Is this a... closet?" April asked, keeping her voice low and fumbling around in the dark. Her voice was so confused Morgan let out a hysterical little giggle and clapped a hand over her mouth before answering.

"Janitor's station," Morgan said, "with another door which should take us to an employee cafeteria, somewhere over... here."

Morgan stuck her head out the second door and listened. Empty. She crept across the room, maneuvering around the tables with ease. April ran into a chair and it scraped across the floor with a loud squeal. Morgan started, her heart in her throat. They both froze.

"Stay with me," Morgan whispered and they started forward again.

God she was glad she wasn't alone in this escape. The adrenaline and spike of fear were all too familiar. Flashes of that last terrifying night at Charlie's compound pulsed through her thoughts, but she ruthlessly forced them away. She could not afford to let them hinder her now.

Morgan avoided the cafeteria door. She knew it opened on to the main hall and they could not afford the exposure. Instead she slid around the divider separating the employee kitchen from the eating area. She glided through, her slippers making no noise, her hands tracing the contours of the stainless metal prep tables as she passed.

She pushed open a swing door and entered a pantry. The smell of bread and cardboard boxes permeated the still air. Following the shelves to the rear, she found another door. Morgan crouched in front of it and shook for a moment before turning to April, glad the other woman couldn't really discern her fear in the darkness.

"We have to be extra careful now. This is the only exposed hall on our exit route," Morgan said. "It's about thirty feet to the first intersection. We turn right, and go another twenty feet to a side stair."

"Emma, how do you know all this?" April asked. She laid a gentle hand on Emma's arm and felt the girl trembling. "And how are you getting around so well in this darkness?"

"It's always dark to me," Morgan whispered, then shook her head hoping April would let it go if she didn't reply. Answering would expose far too much about her past. A past she feared to explain. Why should she pull another innocent into her troubles? It was bad enough Sam had been caught in the middle.

"What?" April asked, leaning closer to the frightened girl. April had been in any number of tense situations with the boys, but this young woman had not. She wracked her brain for something she could do to calm her but before she could come up with anything concrete, Emma interrupted.

"Let's just get out of here, ok?"

April didn't protest so Morgan leaned out to check the corridor again and took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Ready? Let's go."

* * *

"I'm on 2," Raphael said into his headset, right as Don said, "April is on the move. She's left the ballroom and is in a back hall a few rooms away from your position Raph."

 _Damn._

The angel must still be trapped with the rest of the guests but April was a higher priority. This attack could be a direct result of her investigations into Vallen. Hopefully with all the confusion and the crowd the worst Emma would suffer was the theft of her belongings. He tried not to think of all the other awful things that could befall her.

Involuntarily he clenched a fist and slammed it into the nearest wall.

 _Forgive me angel._

"Find me a path, Donnie," he growled, right as a couple of thugs shoved their way into the kitchen with a hostage.

Raph ducked behind the silver prep counter and pulled off his goggles, waiting for them to get closer. No way these were guests trying to get away from the commotion, they both sported street clothes and purple tats in the shape of a roaring dragon. Plus they had a flashlight.

"Tell us where she is!" yelled one, waving the golden beam in the hostage's face. "She sat at your table most of the night."

"Who?" The hostage shook and his voice wavered.

"The brunette with O'Neil, ya idiot," said the other, cracking his knuckles in a bored manner. He rubbed sweaty hands on his black jeans before hopping up on the prep table next to the victim.

"I d- don't know!" the man said. "They were right there when the lights went out."

"Only a few doors outta the room," said the first, "She didn't take any of 'em, and the boss can't find her in the crowd. So where is she, ya little snitch?"

The second punk flexed his biceps. "Maybe they hid under one of the tables. Let's get back out and-"

Raph had heard enough. He was spoiling for a fight and these punks were easy prey. In the dark kitchen, it was almost too easy. He selected a couple of large commercial pans hanging from a rack nearby and stealthily approached the nearest.

With a loud clang Raph announced his presence. He smashed the punk's head between the two pots with a satisfying crunch. The second, so startled by the noise he forgot to move, took a pan to the face and dropped to the floor in short order. The hostage slid down and started to crawl away.

Raph didn't stop him. Don's voice came back over the headset.

"You better hurry, Raph. She's moving fast. She's headed for a little used side entrance, but guys, a Dragon van is parked outside. They'll ambush her for sure."

"We're almost there," Leo said. "We'll cut her off."

"Raph, go back to the stairs and take the hall on the left. Twenty feet then left. She's in the corridor," Don said.

Raphael was already running.

He pelted back the way he had come, turned left and slid to a stop to peer cautiously around the corner. He pulled the night vision glasses back down and cursed when he found one of the lenses had busted during his little brawl. Donnie was gonna kill him.

He sighed and took them off again. The hall looked empty and quiet, but it pulsed with tension. He didn't see anyone, though he heard running and shouting from elsewhere in the building. He started moving but paused when his eyes caught the outline of a shape darting into one of the doorways ahead of him. A whiff of a perfume he knew well floated by. April.

* * *

April took cover in the tiny alcove and pressed up against Emma, hoping whoever was in the hall would pass on by as both girls tried to muffle the sounds of their panicked breathing. Emma shoved a hand against her mouth and a look of horror crossed her face.

Suddenly, the door Emma was leaning against opened and there was a short, sharp scream as she fell back into the room behind her. The hall was suddenly filled with muscled thugs and the two were grabbed on all sides and hauled to their feet by meaty, heavy handed men.

April reacted instantly, jabbing her elbow into the first person who touched her and ducking forward to charge into the ones holding Emma. Hiking up the skirt of her cocktail dress, April smacked the guy up the side of the head with a powerful roundhouse kick. He went down, but three more took his place and Emma let out a little squeak of terror.

A menacing, rumbling growl reverberated up the hall and everybody paused as their collective hair began to prickle and stand on end.

April was intimately familiar with that particular sound.

Raphael had arrived.

And he was not amused.

Raph charged into the fray with a deafening roar as April dragged Emma back into the relative safety of the empty room behind them. Emma twisted from April's grip, shied away from the chaos, and backed up until she could go no further, her eyes wide and her attention fixed on the sounds of battle echoing from the corridor.

Sharp cries of pain and exuberant yells intermixed with the sounds of heavy blows for several minutes. With a huge thud, something massive collided with the wall and a picture fell, crashing to the floor with an earsplitting clatter. Finally, everything went silent.

Emma whimpered and stood shaking, her focus glued to the door, but April strode boldly out of the room into the darkness.

"April!" a deep, gravely voice called out, "you alright?"

"Fine, but I'm not alone," she warned, unable to think of a subtler approach. How could she get Emma to safety without revealing the guys?

"Leave 'em and come on," Raph said, squaring up to the much smaller woman, his body practically vibrating with urgency. "We've got to go!"

"I'm not leaving her here!" April protested, going toe to toe with the red banded turtle. "She's terrified and I wouldn't have made it this far without her."

"She'll be fine," Raph said. "You need to get out now. You know damn well when the Dragons fail, the Foot will finish this mission so let's go!"

"No!"

The startled exclamation broke the intense staring contest April and Raph were having. Raphael winced at the frightened sound of the unknown voice.

"Emma?" April said, turning back to the girl huddling just inside the doorframe.

 _Emma? My Emma? The angel?_ Raph thought his mouth dropping open. _She's the girl the Dragons are searching for?_

He found himself overwhelmed by the urge to shove April aside to check. If it was the angel, he wasn't going to leave until she escaped, exposure or no. Before he could make a stupid mistake, Leonardo's voice rang out down the blackened corridor.

"April, step away from her."

April moved instantly, twisting away from the girl and running a few steps down the hall. When Leo used that tone of command, none of them disobeyed.

"April?" the girl called in confusion.

The moment April cleared the scene Leo threw a small gas pellet at the young woman's feet. There was a quiet hiss before the girl wavered and fell. Raphael snatched her up right before she hit the floor.

"Donatello," Leonardo said through his headset. "We're incoming with April and an unconscious female civilian."

The quick acting gas dissipated and Raphael directed an irritated glare at Leo's shell as they gathered in the corridor, wishing he'd known what Leo had in mind. He almost hadn't got to her in time.

"Does the civilian need medical attention?" Don asked.

Leo exchanged a glance with April, who shook her head, before he answered.

"No, she just had a whiff of your knock-out gas."

He shifted his focus to Michelangelo and April who began to move in rapid, practiced unison around him. Together they cleared the bodies littering the space with smooth, economic motions and removed all clues as to their presence.

"Alright guys, back to floor five."

It didn't take them long to reach the balcony where Raph made his entrance. From there it was easier. The ever present street lamps gave them enough light to see clearly as they maneuvered over the rooftops and down a narrow fire escape to an alley several blocks away.

Raphael tried to keep his eyes turned away from the tiny form in his arms but he couldn't help sneaking a glance every now and then. In the reflected light she seemed extremely pale and he worried, even as he told himself not too.

Mikey caught him giving her the once over.

"Don't worry, dude. Donnie made those gas pellets, she's fine."

Raph grunted as Don pulled up in their heavily modified vehicle and everyone piled in. April called shotgun, Leo climbed in the side door and Raph passed in the girl. Don gave Mikey the wheel and headed to the back to check on her.

Raphael seated himself to the side, keeping out of the way by the weapons and radar station. Leo took the seat next to Raph and began throwing questions at April.

Raph ignored them. Instead, his eyes bored into his darker green brother's shell as Donnie examined the girl as best he could in a moving vehicle. He flinched and fidgeted in his seat as Don checked over her pale arms, bent her knees, and slid his hands over her velvet covered body searching for unknown injuries. Raph gripped the armrests tight, resisting a curious impulse to shoulder his mild mannered brother away from the girl.

"She's sweet, but there is something strange about her," April mused, drawing Raph's attention back to the conversation at hand. "Emma really wanted to get out of there. She didn't panic but she definitely was not into sticking around. And she knew exactly where she was going, as if the darkness didn't matter."

Leo's brow furrowed and he tapped one finger against his lips as he considered who the girl might be and what her actions implied.

"Could she be a plant?"

Raphael's head snapped up and the glare he sent in the leader's direction could have stopped a freight train. The angel was not an enemy. Leo, long used to strange, hostile looks from this particular brother, shrugged it off.

"God, Leo. Why do we always have to assume the worst?" Raph said. "She could have worked at the place before, or dated someone who did."

Leo, Don, and April looked up at him in surprise. Even Mikey glanced back in the rear view mirror, his mouth agape. Raphael was defending a civilian?

"There are several reasons to be cautious," Leo said. "One, she 'accidentally' met April in a store this afternoon and got friendly. Two, they just happen to be attending the same party. Three, she knew a secret way out of a surrounded ballroom. Four, she led April on a direct route to an enemy vehicle."

"The Dragons wanted 'em both," Raph said, crossing his arms and facing Leo directly. "I overheard 'em grilling a hostage about the brunette with O'Neil."

Leo shook his head. "It doesn't prove anything Raph. Maybe they were upset she didn't bring April to them like she was supposed to."

Raph bristled, but April shook her head, her green eyes shown with intensity and her red hair flipped about her face in a dark wave.

"It's always possible," she said, "but I don't think so. Emma behaves like someone new to the city. She was absolutely lost in the shop today and I approached her, not the other way around. Besides, if she wanted us to get caught, there were plenty of opportunities to signal someone or lead me to them in the dark."

Leo nodded. April was an excellent investigator and her gut reaction to new people was usually spot on.

"Another thing, she knew Raph was there," April said. "She pulled me back before I even sensed anyone, and I was looking for you guys. Plus, she reacted badly when you mentioned the Foot."

"She's heard of the Foot?" Leo asked. The blue banded leader frowned. As much as he didn't want it to, that put this girl back in the threat category.

Don interrupted from the rear.

"Leo, how many pellets did you use on her?" He sounded puzzled and his expression when Raph jerked his way was unusually tight.

"One," Leo said, spinning in his seat to face the girl. "She have a bad reaction?"

"Hmmm. Maybe because she's so small... Her eyes aren't right. The pupils are dilated, like she inhaled too much," Don muttered.

Raph's eyes narrowed and his former concern roared back to life. His stomach turned as he stared at the tiny form draped across the back seat with his brother nervously hovering over her. Had they hurt her in their efforts to remain unknown? That was unacceptable.

"Do we need to drop her at an ER?" he blurted out. "April could take her in."

"I don't want to lose sight of her, till we know what's going on," Leo said.

"If she doesn't wake up we might never know," Raph retorted, his hands clenching into fists. He knew better than to start a fight in the tight confines of the van but his fuse had been lit and concern for the angel made it much shorter.

"She'll be fine," Don said, though he paused for so long Raph wasn't sure he believed it. "Just out a little longer than usual. I think."

Absently, Don patted her hand and Raph suppressed a growl.

"So-o-o," Mikey said, breaking the tense silence. "What are we gonna do with her?

Donnie picked up her small handbag and dug around. It annoyed Raph, Don invading her privacy this way, but he couldn't think of a way to object that wouldn't give away their prior meeting or the fact he knew where she lived.

Don examined her id and frowned. The address was phony. It might fool a casual observer, but not him. It called her whole story into question. Again. Of course there were thousands of fake id's in the city, carried for all kinds of reasons. Some people used whole false wallets, complete with fake cash and cards in case they got mugged. He pointed this out to Leo.

"April, can we put her at your place until she wakes up?" Leo asked. "She seems comfortable with you. If you ask the right questions she might open up and we can find out more."

April nodded. She liked this girl and wanted her to be in the clear.

"So it's decided. We'll use your spare room and keep the building under surveillance until we find out more. Mikey, head on over to April's."

"On it, dude," Mikey said as he changed direction.

Don found her phone and key it open. He was surprised it had the accessibility functions turned on and investigated further. She only had three entries in her contact menu; Angel Automotive Insurance, a Patrick, and a Martin. She had no facebook, twitter, or social media of any kind. Don frowned. If her id could be believed she was twenty-six years old and for a girl her age it was extremely odd she didn't have a digital life, but being private wasn't a crime. He passed it to Leo.

"Strange, don't you think?" Leo said to Don as he scrolled through the entries.

"What is?" Raph asked.

"No pictures, no contacts, no social life of any kind," Leo said.

"She may very well be running from the Foot," Don said.

Raphael furrowed his brow. If that was the case, he needed to swing by her place a lot more often while on patrol. If Leo ever let her go back home.

"If I was hiding from the Foot, I wouldn't stay in the city. I'd skip town," Mikey said.

Raph gave him a scathing glare.

"Mikey, we are hiding from the Foot and we're still here."

"I mean if I was a human, alright? Besides, I prefer to think of us as undercover while we hunt for them," Mikey said, his lower lip sticking out in a pout.

Luckily, April's building came into view and Mikey quit commenting as he pulled into the alley.

"April, hold up here a few minutes before you go in. We'll check the place out first to make sure there's no Foot activity," Leo said. "Mikey, Donnie, you're with me. Raph, keep an eye on our guest."

Raph had the presence of mind to grimace, like he usually would at being saddled with a human, but secretly he rejoiced at the chance to be alone with her. The others piled out of the van and disappeared into the shadows of the alley.

"What do you think of her?" Raph asked April, tilting his head toward the unconscious girl.

April considered the question. Raph normally wasn't this invested in civilian encounters. Usually he dropped in, growled a lot, beat up the bad guys, and left as soon as he could. For him to inquire, however casually, was strange.

"I like her," April said. "She's spunky, cool in a crisis, and she moves so gracefully I think she must of had dance training at some point. She was fun to be around tonight before the Dragons interrupted."

Raph nodded. Everything April said matched what he'd seen himself, but he was unprepared for her follow up question.

"What's your interest Raph?"

 _I don't know._

He didn't have an answer, not even for himself, so he smoothed his expression into his normal frown and countered her question with one his own.

"Why could the Foot want with her?"

"We don't know they want anything, but she sure panicked when she heard the name. I'm sure Leo just wants to keep an eye on her."

April glanced at her watch.

"Speaking of, I better get going. The guys should be finished checking the place out by now."

And April slipped out of the truck leaving Raphael alone with his thoughts.


	5. Inquisition

Raphael contemplated the petite woman lying across the back seat and wondered why this particular one held such an intense attraction for him. She wasn't the first beautiful woman he ever encountered. He interacted with quite a few while on patrol, saving them from some nasty, unspeakable fates.

None of them ever captured his attention.

Of course, it didn't help that his usual M.O. was to cut and run as soon as he finished the job. Still, April connected with him and she was sure pretty enough. But she didn't hold even a tenth of the draw for him as this tiny one. The nearer he got to her the more powerful the pull became. Donatello would probably compare it to gravity.

Even now, seated only a few feet away from her, he wanted to be closer. It was a strange, unnerving, sensation. As compelling as it was, he couldn't see a benefit to it and under closer scrutiny it seemed a lot like a weakness he shouldn't give in to.

But he couldn't dispel it either.

For a while Raphael kept himself in place. As long as he ran a watchful eye over her, he could stay put. She was certainly easy to keep his eyes on. Her hair came loose sometime during their trip over the rooftops, and she lost her ribbons. Now, her silky curls spread out around her head like a halo.

Her outfit for this evening revealed far more than the lumpy overcoat he saw her in previously. The black velvet of her gown clung to her silhouette revealing soft curves, a generous portion of which were on display. Despite her petite stature, she was a rather fully endowed young woman.

His eyes flashed as he remembered the rich feel of the material of her dress and the firm supple form underneath as he carried her across the rooftops. He shook his head roughly. He had no business thinking such things.

In an effort to be a gentleman, even though she slept, he diverted his gaze to the broach at her neckline. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out the small piece of jewelry from his chair.

A turtle! Beautifully wrought with an inlaid shell and ruby eyes. She liked turtles.

 _What were the odds?_

Donnie could tell him but would knowing make a difference? Just because she appreciated regular turtles didn't mean she wanted to meet a walking, talking one. Much less befriend one.

Finding a friend in April had been a one-off chance. Master Splinter explained long ago there were not gonna be many chicks who would overlook their mutant bodies and underground living conditions to get close to them. Of course he used different language, but Raph got the idea.

 _Like anyone would want to get close to me anyway._

He shook his head at himself and closed his eyes so he wouldn't keep staring at her.

 _Why am I even thinking about this?_

The memory of her smile floated behind his eyelids in answer and he snorted mirthlessly. One smile on a rooftop shouldn't have affected him so deeply. Especially since it wasn't even directed at him. She hadn't even known he existed.

Suddenly, the angel stirred and moaned a little in her unconscious state. She lifted one hand to her forehead in pain. Raphael knelt next to her without having consciously thought about moving.

"What's wrong?" he muttered gruffly under his breath as he examined her, setting her arm back on the seat.

He didn't dare to raise her eyelids to check her pupils the way Don did. All he saw was she was still out. He didn't have the experience to guess at any more than that. She probably got a headache from the gas. He sighed, frustrated. He was the wrong one to leave with her.

Donnie would've been able to tell if she was ok. Don could resist her pull.

Raphael could not.

 _What is it about her?_

Here he was, independent, strong, and capable; reduced to sitting on his haunches next a girl who didn't know him and wasn't even conscious. Worryin' cause she moaned a bit in her sleep.

Still, he wracked his brain for anything to make her more comfortable. She looked even paler than before, though he hadn't thought possible until now. He reached out and smoothed the pretty scarf she wore out of the tangle around her and tentatively pushed back some wayward strands of hair.

His hand accidentally brushed against her skin and it was icy under his fingertips. He laid the back of his hand delicately on her forehead. She was freezing.

She shivered and he cursed himself for forgetting with the engine off the interior of the cab would be getting colder. He was dressed for the weather. She was not. He grabbed her shawl and covered her arms, but it wasn't enough. Her shivering became more violent and her teeth began to chatter.

He looked around a little desperately for something, anything, else to use. Seeing nothing to hand, Raph shrugged out of his down coat and wrapped her in it, growling curses under his breath the whole time.

The cold air made him flinch, but he ignored the sensation, concentrating on making sure his huge jacket enveloped the girl fully. She practically disappeared inside the thick folds.

Annoyed, he checked the time and discovered twenty minutes gone. This was taking too long. The angel was suffering. He tapped his headset.

"You guys ready? We can't sit out here much longer," he said.

"The building's clear," Leo said. "Bring her up, Raph."

Raphael turned back to the girl and slid his arms underneath her bundled form. She weighed next to nothing, even with the added bulk of his coat and it wasn't any trouble at all to hold her cradled in one arm as he jumped to the lower level of the fire escape before ascending to April's apartment.

April answered his soft tap at the window. His brothers nowhere in sight.

"They're on the roof," she said, anticipating his question. "The room's ready. Down the hall, all the way at the back."

Raph grunted in acknowledgment and strode through. He'd been here often enough to know his way around. He pushed the door to the guest room open with his foot and laid the girl gingerly on the bed.

He began to unwrap her gently when she groaned in protest and wrapped her arms around the puffy material, holding it close and burying her face in its depths. He paused, not wanting to wake her and uncertain how to proceed. Slowly, bit by bit, he slid the coat out of her grasp.

When it was finally free, he pulled the covers up over her and, greatly daring, laid his hand tenderly against her cheek. The contrast between them was starkly apparent. The whole side of her face fit into his palm and his dark green tone appeared alien against her snow white skin. He withdrew his hand quickly.

What had come over him? He had no right to touch her. Grimacing he backed toward the door, unable to tear his eyes away. He stood staring at her face in the light from the hallway for a long time. Eventually, he had to move, or his brothers would wonder at his absence.

"Good-night, Angel," he whispered and shut the door.

* * *

The rooftop was freezing and covered with a dusting of powdery whiteness as Raph topped the fire escape to rejoin his family, incredibly glad he reclaimed his winter gear. Leo and Don busied themselves setting up perimeter lasers along the edges of nearby buildings and rigging them to one of Don's numerous tablets. Mikey used another tablet to review footage from the security cameras at the Vallen building, at least up until the power went out.

Raph grunted as he looked over Mikey's shoulder, watching as his younger brother's hand skipped across the pad with practiced ease, scrolling through the dozens of feeds and searching for the Dragons' point of entry.

"Ah-ha! Guys, they came in from the subway!" Mikey said in a loud stage whisper waving the tablet above his head.

"Wasn't there security?" Leo asked.

Raph grabbed the device, ignoring the disparaging look Mikey gave him and rewound the feed. Ten minutes before the attack, the human guards simply got up and walked away.

"Damn them!" Raph said through clenched teeth. "It was an inside job."

Mikey stole the tablet back and raced across the open space to show Leo as Raph began to pace. He fumed and stamped through the snow. He still had a lot of anxious, pent-up energy and the short skirmish earlier hadn't done anything but whet his appetite for violence.

He stomped along the roofline, grumbling to himself as he surveyed the street below and the surrounding alleyways. Maybe he and Casey should head out for an old fashioned night of busting heads. That always calmed him down.

 _As long as Emma is safe here._

Where had that thought come from? Since when did he let humans qualify his actions? Aside from April and Case of course. He stopped a moment and considered. This girl was creeping into his mind and he didn't like it, not one little bit.

"We done here?" he asked Leo.

At the leader's nod, he turned and headed for the garage where Casey kept his gear, waving at his brothers as he dashed away across the rooftops. Case wasn't downstairs, so he was either working on his bikes or already out trollin' for trouble. Either pastime would suit Raph down to the toes.

* * *

Saturday morning. Or was it afternoon? Whenever it was Morgan was not ready to open her eyes. She rolled over in bed and muttered darkly to herself under her breath about the amount of alcohol she consumed the previous night. She hadn't over indulged like that since college and if the tang in the back of her throat was anything to go by, she hadn't limited herself to wine. An unpleasant kind of chemically metallic flavor lingered.

She didn't remember how she arrived home and she suffered this horrible anxiety dream about the party being attacked. The dream was so vibrant, she began to suspect foul play, wondering if someone drugged one of her drinks.

She prepared to drag herself out of bed, determined to make something of the day despite her hangover when she realized the sheet wrapped around her was entirely wrong. She always used unscented fabric softener on her laundry to spare her sensitive nose. These were lavender.

Confused, she checked her clothes, running a hand over her front under the covers. She was dressed in the black velvet from last night. She still had her shoes on for Pete's sake.

Memories came back to her in a rush.

The party _had_ been attacked. She and April escaped the ballroom and they almost got away, but someone had seen them in the final hall. A group of men grabbed them and...

Someone had intervened.

Violently.

She shuddered at the memory, the sound of fists connecting with flesh still strong in her ears. It triggered another anxiety attack and horrified her yet again. But, who won?

All Morgan remembered was a horrible scent, then... nothing.

Her head throbbed again as she pummeled her brain ruthlessly for more information. Where was she? How did she get here? And most importantly did this whole business involve Charlie?

She struggled to remember details or sensations from last night that might tell her where she ended up. Cold sprang to mind. A cold so intense she shivered, even though the room was warm.

 _Okay Morgan, focus. What else can you recall?_

Her head had hurt something fierce and she remembered a light cloth being tossed over her, but it hadn't helped with the icy chill. Shortly thereafter, she'd been wrapped in something substantially warmer. Another memory surfaced.

That something had smelled wonderful.

She couldn't describe the fragrance exactly. It wasn't cologne, she couldn't stand that. Not after Charlie. No, this was much more natural. Somewhat spicy, but not like any individual one she could name. More like when you open the door to the cupboard and inhale all the aromas at once. It had also been a little smoky, like wood smoke rather than the cigarette variety.

Altogether it was the most amazing scent she had ever come across. It soothed her aching head and warmed her up substantially. Whatever it was, it made her feel... Safe.

Something she hadn't experienced in a long time.

Next she'd been flying. That must have been a dream. Nothing in reality could produce that sensation of weightlessness and rushing air. She'd most likely passed out again and her dreams mixed with her memories.

Somehow she ended up in bed. She could have gone home with April and be in a friendly situation. She could have been kidnaped and be a hostage. She couldn't say with certainty what occurred and that left her in some dire straights.

All she truly knew was she was not at home, which meant two things. She didn't know a way to escape and she hadn't checked in with her agents.

A city-wide manhunt might be going on for her right now.

Morgan rolled to her back, feigning sleep, and stretched all her senses to determine if she was alone. The air in the room, warm and still, must be radiant heat. She listened but decided no one else was present. The door remained closed and she heard no echoes from elsewhere.

A small hiss drew her attention to the left and helped her locate a radiator. Rads were usually placed under windows in the older buildings. If there was a window in here, maybe there was a fire escape as well.

Morgan slipped out of the bed and moved toward the hiss until the warmth hit her legs. Holding her breath in anticipation, she stretched her hand out and gave a silent cheer when she touched cold glass. The window was exactly where it was supposed to be. She fumbled a moment with the locks but managed to raise the sash, letting in a gust of chill wind which rattled the door and gave her goosebumps.

The sounds of traffic rose up around her. A few horns blared and she winced at the noise, her head pounding in time with her heart.

 _I'm still in the city._

By the sound, she was at least three stories up if not four. She stuck her hand out the window and searched all around for a railing or a floor.

 _Drat. No fire escape here._

She pulled her hand back in and shut the window, forcing her tired body to move, even though she wanted to lay back down. She turned right and counted her steps until she reached the end wall. She found a dresser and, amazingly, the rest of her things as well.

Her heart raced as she snatched up her tiny purse and dug frantically for her phone. She'd call Martin, the FBI agent assigned to her. He could track her and come to her rescue in no time.

Disappointment hit her hard, as she realized the phone wasn't present. Of course not. Why would they make it easy? Sighing, she put her purse back on the dresser and fumbled across the room until she found the door. She pressed her ear against it and listened intently.

 _Footsteps. Someone's coming!_

Morgan gasped and dove for the bed, pulling the covers up over her shoulders and pretending to be asleep. Hard to do with all the adrenaline pumping through her system.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

"Emma?" April's voice called. "Are you awake?"

Morgan started.

April? Was she a prisoner? Or was she a part of this?

The door cracked open and April stuck her head through.

"Emma? I brought some tea," April said, entering the room and putting a tray on the dresser. "Do you have a headache?"

"April," Morgan said, her tone low and urgent, "are we alone? Are those goons here somewhere? Where are we?"

"What?" April said, surprised. She lowered her voice in response to the other girl's whisper. "Why would there be anyone else here? We're in my apartment."

Morgan sat up in the bed, feeling a little foolish for her assumption about being in enemy territory.

"We weren't kidnaped from the party?" Morgan asked, still uncertain.

April laughed.

"It was a little harrowing, but we managed to get out," April said. "You collapsed in the hallway on the way to the stairs, but a friend of mine showed up and helped me carry you."

Morgan blushed to the roots of her hair.

"I'm so sorry April! I swear I didn't have that much to drink." Morgan said.

"No worries," April said. "Everything turned out ok."

"Might not have..." Morgan said under her breath, shaking her head.

That was a mistake, the room spun for a moment and Morgan held absolutely still until her throbbing head, and stomach, settled again.

"So, tea?" April asked.

"Yes, please," Morgan said, trying to get over the adrenaline still flowing through her. Fight or flight wasn't needed anymore. Or was it?

Morgan remembered April's friend mentioned the Foot. Perhaps Miss O'Neil was not as innocent as she seemed. But how to inquire without giving away her own secret? And speaking of that, if she didn't check in with Martin soon, all hell was gonna break loose.

"April, do you know what happened to my phone?" Morgan asked.

"Um, It might be in the living room. Your purse dumped on the floor when we came in. Sorry if I didn't get it back in," April said, thinking fast as she remembered Don rummaging through Emma's things last night.

"Oh," Morgan said, taken off guard by this reasonable answer.

 _Morgan, you are entirely too suspicious of everything._

"I'll go look," April said and darted out as Emma sipped from her cup.

The drink, hot and reviving, felt fantastic going down. It was some kind of green tea and it did remarkable, healing things for her head and stomach. She'd never had a hangover clear so fast.

April came back in a few minutes, phone in hand.

"Hiding under the sofa," she announced, handing Emma the device.

April hated to lie to the girl, but some secrets had to be kept. Donatello plugged it into his laptop last night and declared it squeaky clean. Not so much as a deleted photo for him to examine, but he'd cloned the phone anyway. He also put a small tracking device inside so he could locate her even if the phone got turned off.

April sighed. She didn't like spying on the girl. She preferred finding out information the old fashioned way. Good thing she had a lot of experience asking tough questions. She pondered the best way to begin what would likely become an inquisition, but Emma interrupted her thoughts.

"I have to make a quick call," she said.

Morgan wanted to call Martin, but that would require a lot more explaining than she wanted to do in front of April. So instead, she dialed the number of a message service where she updated her location when plans changed. Not exactly checking in, but it would have to do.

She waited for the beep.

"Hi," she said to the machine. "Sorry I didn't call you last night. The party turned out a lot differently than I planned. I ended up having a great girl's night with a new friend and stayed over at her place. I'm still here," she covered the receiver and turned to April, batting her eyes innocently, "Where are we?"

"9th and Bleecker."

Morgan turned back to the phone. "Lower west side-ish I guess, I'll be home soon and I'll call you later. Bye," she hung up.

"Boyfriend?" April asked, hoping to start a more revealing conversation. "You didn't want to tell him about the party crashers?"

Morgan shrugged. It seemed the easiest explanation for now.

"He worries," she said smiling. "I call almost every night. If I don't he imagines all sorts of bad things. Totally paranoid. I don't want to give him any more ammunition."

Morgan thought that would be enough to explain any strange "checking in" type phone calls she might need to make in front of April in the future. April nodded sagely.

"Does he live in the city too?" she prodded.

"He works here," Morgan improvised, "but he lives in the suburbs."

 _Keep things vague,_ she reminded herself.

"Did you move here for him?" April asked.

"No. I met him after I came here. About six months ago. He's nice enough, but it's not all that serious."

April raised a brow. A boyfriend who wasn't that serious but required her to check in? That didn't sound like a healthy relationship. Not that it was any of her business, as long as he wasn't associated with the Dragons or the Foot. Still, Emma was a sweet girl. One who didn't need a tyrant taking advantage of her. Maybe she could give the girl an out if she needed one.

"Well, you can crash here anytime you need a break from the crazy. I know how those types can be. Charming one minute and completely overbearing the next," April said.

Morgan's head snapped up. That described her former relationship with Charlie a little too closely for comfort. It started out innocently enough and ended in nightmare. And at one point, Sam had said almost exactly the same thing to her.

This time she didn't feel it coming and couldn't fight it off. Memory rose in her mind like a tidal wave and swept her away from the present.

* * *

A few months into her L.A. adventure found Morgan sitting alone in a coffee shop after yet another failed interview. She liked it here. The scents and the hustle and bustle of the many patrons of the cafe made her feel like she was actually part of something bigger than herself. Usually, it cheered her up, but not today. Moving to the big city had been the pinnacle of her dreams, but if she didn't find a position soon she wouldn't be able to stay much longer.

Suddenly, a man approached her table and asked to join her. Morgan agreed. While she thought this a little unusual, the cafe was crowded and she was new to the 'big city'. If sharing a table was commonplace here, she'd be rude to refuse.

They exchanged some pleasant small talk and she began to relax. So much so, she discreetly mentioned her job hunt, bemoaning how hard it was to find decent employment these days. Turned out, the guy had been looking for a personal assistant and was overjoyed to find her qualified for the position.

She'd been out of work for months and her savings were running low, so she took the job, no questions asked.

Charles, or Charlie as he preferred to be called in private, was an entrepreneur who owned a large business and Morgan excelled as his assistant. Charismatic and suave, Charlie was the type of person who got stuff done and it wasn't too long before things heated up between them.

Sam tried to warn her, but Morgan had been so caught up in the adventure of the affair a lot of red flags and warning bells went unnoticed. Until one day, she woke up with no life to speak of. Charlie became overbearing and demanded all her waking moments. She no longer had choices or options.

That's when she began to find out what Charlie's personality truly was and what kind of business he was really running.

* * *

"Emma? Emma?"

April shook her by the shoulders and called her name. Morgan blinked and shuddered, forcing her mind back to the present. She hated these moments when memory overwhelmed her and she was lost to the past.

"April?" Morgan put out her hands to stop the shaking. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out for a minute. I must still be hungover."

Morgan tried to shrug off her friend's concern with a little joke and a smile.

"Emma, you screamed and cried!" April said, her tone worried.

"I- I did?" Morgan scrambled out of the bed.

She touched her cheeks and found them wet. Her eyes felt swollen. She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat and tried to think up some viable excuse for her behavior. Post-traumatic stress over Charlie was not something she wanted to explain. To anyone.

"I must have passed out again and freaked about the attack last night," Morgan said.

She grabbed her purse from the dresser and her phone off the bed.

"Listen April. Please don't take this wrong. I'm grateful to you, and your friend, for pulling me out last night but I need to get home. I need to collapse and sleep this off," Morgan said. She rushed through the words as if saying them faster would make them more palatable.

Before April could respond, she stepped around her and out the bedroom door. She fled down the hall, one hand trailing along the wall but stopped when it ended.

"You don't have to go," April said, coming up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder. "I don't mind the company and I'm a little shook up myself."

Morgan whirled to face her, shuddering again, and knocked April's hand away.

"Don't touch me!"

After those memories, she couldn't stand anyone behind her, much less physically laying a hand on her. It took days to get over that.

April drew back in alarm and studied her face. Morgan flushed.

"I'm sorry, April. I really just need some familiar surroundings," Morgan stammered.

"Ok," April said, "Let me grab my keys and I'll drive you home."

She didn't think the guys would like it much, but she couldn't keep the girl prisoner. At least if she took Emma home, they might be able to put up some cameras around the girls apartment building.

"N-no," Morgan said. "You're upset too. You should stay in. I'll get a cab."

"But-"

"No buts, April, I'm headed home."

In the end, Morgan allowed April to call a taxi to pick her up at the door. She waited until the driver pulled away before she gave him the address of a shop a few blocks away from Angel Automotive Insurance. If someone called the cab company about her drop off location, they wouldn't get her home or work.

As the cab headed uptown, Morgan struggled to stay focused on the present. She took several deep breaths, wrapped her shawl tight around her shoulders, and tried to pay attention to the throng of humanity surrounding her.

It wasn't working.

She took her phone out of her purse to distract herself and turned it over and over in her hands. She frowned. It felt off for some reason. Heavier?

Panic seized her mind as paranoia kicked in. She turned the phone on and clicked through the settings until she found the reset option. She cleared it, deleting what little data she had, turned it off, and tried to wipe away all her fingerprints with the edge of her scarf. That accomplished, she reached underneath herself and shoved the phone into the crack of the seat, wedged way back. If someone tracked it, they could follow this cab all over the city.

She tapped on the glass and redirected the cabby to Rockefeller Center. She'd get out in a tourist area, and make her way home on the subway.


	6. Semblance of Normality

The moment the bright yellow cab pulled away from the curb April was on the phone. Leonardo answered on the first ring and put the call on speaker as his brothers gathered around. Even Raphael, who was out all night with Casey, seemed interested.

"Leo, Emma just left. I tried to convince her to stay, but she freaked out and insisted on going home. She wouldn't let me take her. She's in a cab. Donnie can track her, right?"

Donatello sped off toward his computer station to activate his tracking device.

"What happened? She sounded fine when we listened in to her phone message," Leo said.

Less than half an hour had passed, and the brothers waited anxiously for an update. His eyes flicked to Raph as his red banded, hot-headed brother began to pace; never a good sign.

"I'm not entirely sure. Does that gas of Donnie's have side effects?"

Leo raised a brow and turned to the genius in silence as Don considered the question from his station across the room. The colored lights from his bank of technology painted unusual patterns across the gentle turtle's face as Don's forehead furrowed.

"Everything has side effects," he muttered, "but the ones from those gasses are rare. What were the symptoms?"

"Headache, dizziness, and I think hallucinations."

Donnie shook his head, setting his violet bandana tails flapping. "Headache and dizziness maybe, since I assume she consumed alcohol at the party, but not hallucinations."

"Can you describe what happened, April?" Leo interrupted.

"One minute I was probing for information, the next she's screaming her head off. She wouldn't respond, and this blank look of terror covered her face. It went on a for several minutes."

"Did she offer an explanation?" Don asked.

The gleam in his eye said his brain was working overtime, all pistons firing as he sorted through the massive database of his incredible mind, searching for a parallel for the girl's reactions.

"She claimed to of blacked out and dreamed of the attack, but it doesn't ring true," April said, her voice low and soft with concern. "You should have seen her face, the way she stared blankly around at the walls while she screamed. She was terrified. Something else is going on. Someone has or is hurting her and from the way she reacted when Raph mentioned the Foot, I don't think we need to look very far for the who."

Those were magic words for the Hamato family and Leonardo's steel colored eyes lit with determined fire. Since they first learned their craft, their father raised them with one absolute mission.

Fight for those who could not protect themselves.

That statement moved Emma firmly out of the "threat" category and into the "protect" one as Leonardo would never back away from someone injured by the Foot. Raphael would have rejoiced, since it swayed his older brother more than a week's worth of arguments from him, except he was too busy fighting off a towering rage.

 _That anyone would have the gall to hurt such an angel... If I ever discover who did it..._

Raph's amber eyes flared as the anger wouldn't even let him finish a thought, his muscles tensed and flexed, and he stared around searching for something to pummel. Michelangelo flinched away from him. It was like waving a red flag at a bull. Raph's gaze speared him, and Mikey began backing away.

"Right," Leo said. "Don, we need everything you can find on this girl. I want to know where she came from, where she's living, and what she's running away from. We can't defend her if we don't know the enemy or the territory."

"Already on it," Don said from his station.

"April, I'd like you down here to fill in the details of what you talked about. Mikey will meet you at the usual manhole." Leo said.

Mikey took off, grateful for the reprieve, grabbing his skateboard on the way out. Raphael turned his glare on Leo before stomping over to the weight room. The loud smacks of his fist colliding with a punching bag echoed through the lair.

"Leo," April's said, exasperated. "I've been visiting by myself for years; Mikey does not need to meet me."

"Until we know what's up with the recent Foot activity and Vallen Corp, I'd like you to have a little extra protection," Leo admitted. "Humor me? Please?"

Leo rarely cajoled. He ordered and expected to be obeyed, especially in matters of team safety, but a soft touch was required with April and all the brothers knew it. She was capable; no denying that. She could defend herself if needed.

But she was beloved by all of them and they would make sure the need never arose.

A whoosh from the phone told Raph what she was doing. An irritated April rolled her startling green eyes and blew air through her bangs. Raph smirked through his anger and continued his assault on the battered equipment.

A long pause ensued while Leo waited for her answer.

"Fine," she said. "I'll be there as soon as I can... with Mikey."

* * *

Raphael paced about the living room like a confined tiger as the others talked. He had at least an hours wait ahead of him until it got dark enough to go out and check on the angel and after hearing April's story in detail, he was worried.

Raph did not handle worry well though he suffered from it often. He reserved it for his family, the team, and April. Casey...not so much. None of that compared to what he experienced now. This level of concern almost frightened him. He practically vibrated with the need to know the girl was ok. He couldn't wait to have her in his sights again.

The vague responses to April's questions about her life didn't so much as hint at where she lived, and she somehow managed to 'lose' Donnie's tracking device. Oh, the thing was still active but she left it in a car; probably the same cab she took from the apartment. It had been in constant motion since she pulled away from the building.

Raph smirked. One side of his expressive mouth quirking up to expose gleaming white teeth. Emma was one smart cookie, but Don sure was annoyed.

He still hadn't told anyone he knew where she lived. For one thing, Donnie took her intelligence as a challenge and submerged himself hip deep in research. Raph didn't want to spoil it for him.

Secondly, he wanted some more time to investigate this paranoid boyfriend by himself. April didn't like the sound of him and Raph trusted her judgment. If this guy hurt Emma in any way, Raph was going to return the favor. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything until nightfall.

All that was left was the waiting. Waiting until darkness fell over the city and he could escape the confines of down below. Waiting to see her for himself.

* * *

The weekend ended far too fast for Morgan. Saturday was mostly gone by the time she got back to her apartment, showered, changed, and called Martin for a meeting.

The debriefing lasted hours.

She tried to remain patient. Martin's information, after all, allowed them to escape the party, but all the questions were wearing thin. She'd told an edited version of the story several times.

Some instinct prompted her to leave April's name out of her report, claiming instead her companion was one of her co-workers. One she knew passed the FBI background checks. Conveniently the girl also lived on the lower west side, so the fabrication aligned with her previous message. Plus, she and the girl spoke at the party so if agents pulled her aside for questioning she wouldn't poke too many holes in it.

But she knew they wouldn't question the girl. They didn't want to ruin her cover. Not if they didn't need too. Moving her cost too many tax dollars.

Morgan had admitted her panic attack about the phone in the taxi though.

Martin merely raised a brow, pulled a new one out of his sports jacket and handed the burner to her, already set up with her preferences and three contacts. He was nothing if not prepared. Afterward, they argued for hours about her remaining in her current apartment before she convinced him her location hadn't been compromised.

She didn't get home until after 2 AM.

The plainclothes officer in the unmarked car who dropped her off offered to walk her in but she declined tiredly. If the "doorman" peeked out, she didn't want him to tell the world she entertained strange men in the wee hours of the night.

She dragged herself in, cracked the window to offset the heat from her overly rambunctious radiator, and fell into bed without even undressing. Sleep claimed her immediately but didn't last.

It never did after one of her relapses.

Less than two hours later, Morgan screamed herself awake and sat on the edge of her bed shuddering in reaction. Despite all the precautions, all the hiding, she dreamed Charlie found her again. He sent his secret army, and they dragged her back to his home and his bed.

She knew she would never escape alive and Charlie's cruel chuckle, as he approached her bound form, echoed infinitely around her.

She sobbed for an hour before taking a hot shower and trying to get back to sleep.

* * *

Seven hours.

That's how long Raphael waited across from Emma's window behind the grey veil of mesh hiding him from prying eyes. Seven hours of worry. Seven hours of imagining what might have happened; because she wasn't here.

Despite the fact night fell early this time of year, Raph hadn't been able to escape the lair until after 6 o'clock. The conversation surrounding Emma morphed into a generalized strategy session about Vallen Corp. which seemed to drag on and on.

Leo did not want their investigation to be sidetracked too much by this girl, but everyone saw a connection between the two. Raph just wanted it to be over so he could get out and find her.

Too much time had passed before he was dismissed for his nightly patrol.

The other's went out several times a week, but Raph left the lair every night. Truthfully, he escaped every chance he could. Not that he didn't enjoy his brothers company, but every time he stayed in this little voice nagged him. Telling him crime didn't take a break, so why should he?

He and Leo came to an agreement long ago. Raph could run nightly, as long as team assignments got priority, and he adhered to Splinter's principals. After all, the exercise kept his temper in check and the log he wrote allowed Donnie to search for patterns they might miss. Don pitched in, upgrading Raph's phone and tracking equipment, to locate him if he ever got in too deep and Mikey sometimes came along for the practice.

Tonight, his concern was not for the city at large. It was far more focused. One tiny girl, out there somewhere, needed his protection. His desire to see her was bordering on obsession.

The second he hit the rooftops, he ran straight to Emma's building. The fact she wasn't home when he arrived didn't disturb him; it was dinner time. As hours passed, however, and she didn't return he began to fret.

He started running small patrol circuits around her block, checking all the dank alleyways and dark corners. He retraced her odd path back to her workplace. Nothing. Finally, he returned to her home, settled back into the familiar concealment of the scaffolding, and waited. There wasn't anything more to do.

Unfortunately, that left him far too much time to think.

 _What if she's afraid to come home? What if she's staying over at the boyfriend's? The guy might be hurting her right now..._

Raph clenched his fist and the muscles of his forearm and bicep flexed in agitation.

Midnight came and went, then 1 AM. At two, a car stopped out front, and a small form moved limply through the door. He sat up and peered anxiously through the window as she entered and shed her coat. She looked ok.

Exhausted, but not injured.

Raph sighed in relief, breathing freely for the first time in hours as he watched her move about the apartment. Emma didn't waste time. She didn't even change clothes, she simply propped the window open and doused the lights.

Raphael stayed nearby a while longer, despite the cold and the late hour. Amazed by how much the knowledge that the girl was safe and asleep mere feet from where he sat eased his mind. If he angled his head to cut the glare he could see her silhouette in the bed.

As he observed her, a new set of worries flooded his thoughts.

 _What if the Foot find her after I leave?_

He didn't have the equipment with him for proper surveillance.

Staying out shouldn't be a problem, he decided, at least for a little while longer. He texted the family an excuse so Leo wouldn't call in the cavalry. To secure her safety and to relieve muscles tense from hours of sitting still, Raph took a quick run. He surveyed the surrounding rooftops, but it wasn't long before he settled back in near her. He couldn't stay away.

Abruptly, a female scream pierced the air. Long and despairing, the scream wasn't one of a woman surprised or taken off guard, it sounded like someone who knows their fate is sealed.

Raph's head snapped around as he traced the sound, first checking the street below but finally raising horrified eyes to the window across the way, where only moments ago his angel had been sleeping. It cut off with a choking noise and was replaced by quiet sobs that wrenched his heart.

Raphael applied his climbing spikes, took two steps back and lunged across the gap between the buildings. He landed firmly on the old red brick and hauled himself up by main strength to peer in her window, his muscles bunching and stretching.

Emma sat on the edge of the bed, head in her hands, bawling her eyes out. Raph tore his gaze away from her and stared intently into every corner of the room, searching for an intruder, but she was alone.

April was right. Someone had hurt the angel.

Badly.

And whoever it might be was somehow still terrorizing her.

He intended to stop it.

* * *

Sunday passed in a blur as Morgan tried to regain some semblance of normality. She visited the corner bodega to buy groceries, dropped her dress at the cleaners, and spent some time picking up her apartment.

As the sun set, she bundled up and dragged herself to the rooftop of the building. In the center, a small garden boasted a metal table and chairs next to some box hedges whose dead leaves rustled in the wind. The chair didn't provide the most comfortable seating, but it was better than nothing.

She pulled one right to the edge of the roof and settled herself. A mittened hand rested on the railing, and she leaned her cheek on her knuckles. She closed her eyes, breathed in the evening air, and tried to clear her mind.

Her face was calm, but tears betrayed her; slipping down her cheeks, leaving icy cold trails behind. Alone in a city of millions, she gave in to her emotions and let the sorrow run its course. She never knew why Charlie chose her. She probably never would.

She might have been easy prey, a young twenty-something in the big wide world for the first time. That and her inexperience with men made her an irresistible target. Four years later saw her older and wiser, but broken in soul and spirit. After her escape, she'd sworn off romantic relationships altogether. She never wanted to be trapped again.

She tried not to blame herself. The therapist the FBI made her see said it wasn't her fault. But the guilt still claimed her, and she couldn't let go of the belief she somehow deserved the punishment Charlie dealt out if only for being so naive.

She buried her face in the lovely silk scarf from the party to hide her tears and stopped short. Clinging to it was a peculiar scent; spicy and wonderful.

A feeling of warmth and safety overwhelmed her, followed by a memory of weightlessness. Of flying.

She held the material in trembling hands and inhaled deeply, savoring the sensation. Her body responded with a rush of endorphins and her face flushed. Her heart rate calmed, and the hitch in her breathing eased.

Miraculous.

Like all good things, the moment passed, and the heady scent dispersed into the cold winter air. Morgan, left bereft, clung to the soft fabric. Only when her mind cleared did she sense the eyes upon her.

Someone was watching. She froze a moment in panic before she forced herself to relax. A watcher was hardly unusual on the roof. Her building was short, overlooked by many high rises and she would attract the attention of anyone gazing out a window.

A tiny girl seated precariously near the edge of the rooftop would incite curiosity.

Besides, the gaze didn't feel menacing, and the aura was familiar. This was someone she'd met before, at least in passing; perhaps a neighbor. Still, she was supposed to be hiding, so it would be best to get back indoors. She stood up and dragged her chair back to the little garden before heading to the stairs.

Tomorrow was a workday. She needed to try for sleep.

* * *

Getting away tonight had been easier. Don had been absorbed in his research though frustrated with his lack of results so far. Leo was focused on the information they were gathering on Vallen Corp. and Mikey, as always, amused himself.

Raph left the lair before the sun even set; making his way through the underground network of sewers, subway, and maintenance tunnels to the manhole in the alleyway nearest Emma's building.

As soon as the shadows lengthened enough to obscure his exit, Raphael moved. His motions quick and practiced as he shifted the heavy cover to the side enough to slide out before setting it back into place. After that, it was a matter of moments to reach the lower levels of the fire escape and climb to the roof.

Tonight he came prepared for surveillance. He carried Don's duffel bag filled with cameras to install all over Emma's building. He brought enough to cover all the entry doors, the fire escape, the alley, and the surrounding rooftops.

He purposely selected older equipment, and Don loaned it to him with minimal fuss, too absorbed in his own research to worry about what Raph wanted with a bunch of old parts. Now all he needed to do was rig it together in a loose network and connect it to the refurbished tablet Don gave him.

Raph was no computer genius, but Don made it easy. His brother could make a fortune in the software development business if he had a mind too. Everything he designed was intuitive and simple to use. Even for someone with only two fingers and a thumb.

It wouldn't take him long to have the whole system up and running.

He finished mining the alley and nearby rooftops with cameras and prepared to mount some on the roof access to Emma's building when he heard someone climbing the stairs. Silently, he melted into the shadows and backed away from the door.

Emma wandered out. He stifled a little gasp at her nearness, remembering at the last second how well she heard. She didn't look happy, her usual grace absent. She tripped a little in the snow as she dragged a heavy metal chair halfway across the roof and leaned out over the railing.

Raph held his breath, as his heart leapt into his throat, hoping she wasn't planning to do anything foolish. She was much closer to the edge than he liked.

He crept a little nearer to her bundled form. All he could see was her face and his chest contracted painfully as he realized tears slipped down her cheeks. She was hurting, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do, except hang around and make sure she didn't decide to end it all.

All his instincts screamed at him to snatch her up and take her someplace safe. Somewhere they might talk. A hidden location where he could promise her she'd never be alone or have to face what she feared again.

It wasn't all instinct. Surprisingly, when he focused on the thoughts he found he wanted to make those promises. As crazy as it sounded, he wanted to shelter this girl, but his presence would probably drive her to jump in terror.

So he did the only thing he could, stay in the shadows and watch over her until she went back inside.


	7. The Alley

Two whole weeks had passed since the media dubbed 'Vallen Christmas Catastrophe'. Everyone was talking about it at work and Morgan even caught a special news report on the mess hosted by none other than April O'Neil.

Neither the police nor the FBI found any leads on those responsible, so no way to confirm if Morgan was a target or another innocent bystander. Since no one knew, one way or the other, she decided to simply keep to herself at work and tried a whole lot harder to blend in with the general populace.

Mostly her days were quiet. The call center, as promised, slowed down and the most worrying thing she had to deal with day to day was Roman's constant badgering. Roman could not take a hint, or even an outright 'no'; for he asked her out every day since the disastrous party. She was reaching her wit's end with him, any more and she'd have to report him to HR to have some peace. She didn't want to. Not because he didn't deserve it but because it would draw attention and leave a trail of paperwork a mile long.

The less of that she left behind the better.

The actual Christmas holiday came and went. Morgan celebrated on her own, not daring another outing. She wrote a total of two cards; one to April O'Neil and one to her anonymous friend, sending both to April's apartment. She thanked them once again for pulling her out, told them she was still alive, and wished them Happy Holidays.

She very carefully left off the return address and mailed them from across town.

Quiet days were fine with Morgan because her nights were far more broken. Nightmares brought her screaming awake and running to the roof as an escape almost every evening. When she awoke so terrified she could hardly breathe, the chill open air felt like a haven.

That same watchful presence appeared more than once on her late night visits but instead of disturbing her further this sympathetic onlooker grounded her and let her eventually return to her slumber. Over time, she began to think of this mysterious watcher as her guardian. It was only when she sensed him that her mind calmed and allowed her to regain some peace.

But she was fed up with her emotional slump. It was time to get out there and try to cultivate a social life again. The FBI kept telling her she was safest surrounded by other people so she made plans with some girls from work to attend a New Year's party at a hotel not too far from her apartment. She didn't have the money to stay the night, but a lovely evening of dancing and drinking was just what the doctor ordered.

* * *

Raphael's temper was nearing the breaking point and his whole family knew it. Their Christmas holiday, usually a time of warmth and cheer, was strained. Night after night, Raph left for his evening patrol and returned past midnight, fuming and angrier than when he'd gone out.

Leonardo assumed his brother was spoiling for a fight and wasn't finding one on the streets. Donatello said the crime rate dropped off substantially since the Foot went into hiding a few months ago. The street crime now was smaller gangs and individuals stirring up trouble and they were not enough for Raphael.

However, New Year's Eve was coming up and Leo knew that evening would contain many opportunities for his brother to blow off steam. All those people crowding the streets meant the bad guys would be out in full force to take advantage of the drunks, the tourists, and the unwary.

Hopefully, it would be enough to diffuse Raph as well.

If not, he would have to pull him aside and try to talk to him. Leo sighed. Those types of conversations never went well and usually ended up with one or both of them injured in some fashion.

* * *

Raphael _was_ spoiling for a fight but he didn't know how to battle nightmares and fever dreams. Night after night, the angel woke screaming and fled to the rooftop. Night after night, he could only watch her tears flow and do nothing to help her. Each time he saw her, she looked worse, ever more lost and alone.

It was driving him mad.

He watched her during the day from the lair. He spent all his free time in his room hunched over the feed from the surveillance cameras, learning as much as he could about her. Everything he saw made him yearn for her more.

She was kind and compassionate, assertive without being aggressive. Supportive and vulnerable but not helpless. She flowed through life, always easing the passage of the those around her, never focused on herself.

She adored animals of all kinds and they seemed drawn to her. She fed the birds, stroked the lonely, lost pets and always had a treat in her pocket.

She was amazing.

What he didn't see? Any sign of the mysterious boyfriend, the Foot, or anyone else who might be hurting her. It confused him. Why would such a lovely, incredible woman spend each night shuddering and crying in terror?

It was time to see what information Donatello had been able to dig up. Maybe the answers lay there. If only he knew who, or what, to fight for her, he might be able to make a difference. But finding the right way to ask Donnie about his results without giving away his own overbearing interest might be tough.

It wasn't as hard as he thought.

April burst into the lair that evening, ignoring Leo's frown. She knew he didn't want her traveling the sewers alone but she wasn't some feinting flower he should worry about protecting.

Emma was the one who needed their help.

April headed straight for Donnie's corner, waving an envelope.

"Anything new?" she asked, panting from her run through the tunnels.

Don sighed and opened a folder on his desk. He didn't need to ask what April was concerned about. Ever since her friend had disappeared, Emma was all she was interested in. Raphael drifted closer to listen.

"All I can say for sure is she's hiding, most likely with professional help," Don said, checking his notes. "Her social security number is only seven months old, even though her work history goes back fifteen years."

Don shook his head at the carelessness of the authorities.

"They always forget the system dates those entries... She's working at a small insurance subsidiary and according to her most recent review, she's a competent employee. Her address on file is false and matches the one I took off her New York ID. There are no phone numbers listed for her and no police, federal, or banking records of any kind. No leases in her name, no known aliases or relatives."

Don closed his folder dramatically.

"The girl's a ghost."

Raph grunted noncommittally.

"Well, she must be the ghost of Christmas present than," April smiled at her own pun. "She sent you guys a card."

Don's eyes lit up and he reached eagerly for the small envelope in April's hand.

"Finally, a break!" he exclaimed. "There could be fingerprints, handwriting...maybe even DNA!"

Raphael snatched the envelope from April before Don could reach it and ripped it open. Not realizing how much he was revealing by doing so. April and Don exchanged a funny look. His quizzical, hers knowing.

April had been regaling him earlier in the week with the idea Raph might have an interest in the girl. Don had disregarded the theory as a romanticized fantasy of the female persuasion. But maybe she wasn't so far off.

Raph glanced at the front of the card. It was covered with blue snowflakes and wished them Happy Holidays. He opened it and read the short paragraphs through several times.

 _Dearest Friend,_

 _I can't thank you enough for your assistance during the Vallen Christmas Catastrophe. It was my first night out with your good friend April and I must apologize for the state in which you found me. I had no intention of over-indulging and can only blame the fabulous Miss O'Neil for being so much fun. That is, up until the party crashers arrived._

 _Your willingness to protect us and carry an unconscious stranger out of a dangerous situation amazes me. I only wish there were more like you in the world. You have my undying gratitude._

 _EMma_

Dazedly Raph pressed the card and envelope into Don's outstretched hand, ignoring his brother's impatiently tapping foot. Emma's words echoed in his head.

 _"I only wish there were more like you in the world."_

Raph knew she would rethink that if she ever met him but it still felt good to read it. It was the first time they'd ever had a real thank you. They never stuck around long enough for the people they rescued to speak to them. Of course that was probably a good thing, as most would more than likely scream in their faces before calling the cops.

"Over-indulging?" Don asked, raising a brow. His voice broke through Raph's reverie.

April flushed a little.

"I told her she passed out in the hall. It seemed like the easiest explanation at the time," April replied.

Don chuckled softly and bent to study the handwriting. He pulled a desk lamp close and tilted the paper back and forth.

"Her writing is strong, but strangely regimented. Almost as if she learned it by rote. And there are some odd impressions on the edges of the card." Don said frowning in concentration. "April, check this out. In her name, she capitalized the 'e' and the first 'm' of Emma. I bet her real name begins with 'm' and she caught herself writing the wrong one when she went to sign."

April was turning the envelope around in her hands.

"Too bad there's no return address," she said. "How much you want to bet she mailed it from a different zip-code as well?"

Don laughed. "I wouldn't take that bet. The girl is entirely too clever. I just wish we knew where she was. All this secrecy...she's involved in something big."

 _And it's killing her._ Raph thought fiercely.

* * *

New Year's Eve.

It was a grand night of debauchery in NYC and years of patrols had taught the brothers New Year's was one of the most vulnerable times for the people. In response, the whole Hamato family patrolled tonight, guarding the less populated residential areas surrounding the famous Times Square.

They divided the area into quadrants and split up to cover as much territory as possible; keeping a sharp eye on the alleyways and dead ends of the convoluted city. Even Master Splinter joined in. He coordinated their efforts from a temporary control center assembled in the sewers and stood by in case any of his sons needed back up.

Raphael sat silently on an outcropping of architecture in his quadrant and absently fiddled with one of his sai. His eyes scanning the surrounding blocks for suspicious activity. It was still early, so there had not yet been a lot of activity. Some drunks caught up in a brawl were easily dispersed with a few theatrics, and he deterred a rather too persistent teenager who was intimidating a young family.

Raph enjoyed the quiet while it lasted. He knew first hand, by the end of the night, all of them would be run pretty ragged.

A small shriek and an angry shout were his cues to get moving again. Two streets over, a large man held a struggling woman pinned to the wall outside the back door of a bar. Raph watched for a moment to make sure it wasn't one of the 'working' girls. He didn't want to interrupt a paying gig. Those girls had it hard enough as it was without him scaring off their customers.

But this was simply some dude taking advantage of his size. Raph sighed at the pig headedness of human men and dropped into the alley. A quick one-two punch from the shadows and the guy was unconscious. The girl fled and Raph propped her assailant against the wall. He sent an anonymous text to the local precinct with the address of the bar and a photo of the guys license. If the girl wanted to press charges later, they'd at least have a lead to follow.

Raph gave the scumbag one last kick before ascending to the rooftops once again. He hated leaving the guy relatively unscathed but Splinter had laid down the law way back when they were teenagers. Use only enough force to get the job done. The important part was protecting the victim. It wasn't their responsibility to punish the guilty.

Years later, Raphael still tried to adhere to those rules. Even when he disagreed, respect for his sensei demanded it. And Raphael was old enough now to know himself better. His anger issues still clouded his judgement, so he relied heavily on his father's wisdom and clarity.

Raph sighed a bit guiltily. He really should tell Splinter about the young woman who had so suddenly become a point of focus in his life. His father might even be able to advise him how to help the girl, but he didn't want to risk it yet.

What if Splinter told him not to see her? He hadn't broken any rules... so far. He hadn't interacted with her further, merely observed.

Was that so bad?

To be honest, he had to admit she was a distraction, always on his mind. If he didn't see her in person frequently he began to feel anxious about her welfare. She was an itch he couldn't scratch, an addiction he could not ignore.

Of course, he knew there was no way she ached for him the way he did for her. She didn't even know him. And seeing her now, in her sad and depressed state, made him worse than anxious. It made him angry.

Something had to change soon, or he was going to burst.

* * *

Morgan dashed furious tears from her face as she strode rapidly down the street away from the hotel, her high heels clicking loudly on the pavement.

 _How dare he? How dare that little creep treat me this way?_

The party soured for Morgan the moment Roman ambushed their little group. None of the other girls liked him either and they left her to his mercy shortly after he appeared. That was what came of not having strong social connections. The pack abandoned her as soon as the jackal showed up.

At the office, Roman had simply been annoying. Now, semi-anonymous in a crowd of people neither of them knew, he became aggressive.

"Emma," he purred, running one finger suggestively down her shoulder. "Fancy meeting you here. Surely you're not celebrating all by yourself? No one to ring in the New Year with?"

She flinched out from under his hand as dark memories of another, far more sinister man, touching her in the same manner rose up inside her head.

Keep it together Morgan! This can't happen here. I can't lose it in public...

With frantic mental hands she pushed the memories away and spun, forcing her way through the crowd. She didn't care which direction she took as long as it was away from Roman, but he would not be dismissed so easily. He caught up to her in a small alcove near the door.

"Emma, Don't fight this, honey..."

Roman grabbed her arm and pushed her up against the wall. He leaned all his weight against her body and tilted his head to inhale the perfume at her neck while he licked his lips. She gagged at the stench of his breath. He'd been drinking heavily and it mixed, in a nasty way, with the sour smell she always associated with him.

"You didn't think I'd let you leave without a proper midnight kiss, did you?" he whispered into her hair. "In fact, I have a room upstairs so we can celebrate early. If you behave... this could be quite pleasant for you."

"Roman," she gasped, struggling against his weight and his grip. "let go of me! We work together, for heaven's sake. How do you expect to get away with this?"

He raised a hand to the back of her neck and gripped her tight. She winced. That was gonna leave a mark to match the bruise he was making on her arm. He shook her.

"Emma, Emma, Emma," he said with a chuckle. "You can't even see me. How would you make a positive ID to the police? Let alone convince a jury. I'm just another guy at the party. Even if you could prove assault, it could be from anyone here..."

 _And there it was. That was what made her a target._

Roman thought he was safe because she couldn't visually identify him. She was so stunned she momentarily ceased her struggle. Very few people realized she was blind. Her coworkers only knew because she needed special equipment to use the computer in her office, but never before had she considered her lack of sight a handicap. Mostly because her 'other' senses more than compensated.

But she'd bet everything she owned Charlie thought the exact same thing.

Roman took advantage of her stillness and fastened his mouth over hers, forcing his tongue between her lips. Enough was enough. She was done with this coward.

She bit him as hard as she could, not stopping until she tasted blood. When he pulled back, she raised a knee. She felt him tense as he braced for the groin shot so she stomped on his instep instead. Hard. With her three inch heel. Roman fell back with a shriek, ripping the sleeve of her dress on the way, and Morgan twisted her wrist out of his grasp. Sequins cascaded around them with a sound like hail as she slid past him out the door as fast as she could move.

She should have gone to the hotel concierge or the security office. She could have called 911 or Martin. She might have hailed a cab and been taken home. She did none of those things. With adrenaline urging flight and memories of Charlie filling her mind common sense abandoned her and she ran to the street.

Once outside, all she could think was to get out of range in a hurry. In her panicked mind, the relatively easy to overcome Roman had been replaced by the exponentially more dangerous Charlie. She didn't want 'him' catching up to her.

She knew there was an alley up ahead. It was a risk but less frightening than staying on the street in front of the hotel for another few blocks where a pursuer might discover her.

She veered into the narrow space and hurried along. Everything was fine for a few short moments until she felt the eyes upon her. This was not the benevolent gaze of her guardian. These were malevolent and many.

At least five and, surprisingly, they were somewhere above her.

She stopped, realizing the alley was a mistake and began to retrace her steps. Slowly she backed up; hoping against hope they hadn't truly seen her yet.

Miraculously, a breeze to her left indicated a side branching. She took the escape and began running for all she was worth. She passed one building, then two. So intent on speed, she almost ran into the wall. A pressure change in the air at the last minute warned her and she whirled around.

Dead end.

The pursuing eyes stopped overhead but didn't come any closer. They were silent, whoever they were. She wouldn't have even known they were there if it wasn't for her 'other' senses. She pressed her back to the wall, her chest heaving and pointed her face up to them.

"I have nothing!" she yelled. "No drugs, no money, no weapons. Please, leave me alone."

A single person approached her at ground level and stopped out of arm's reach.

"That's ok, sweetheart. We're recruiting for something entirely different."

A gravelly male voice laughed and she could practically hear the leer on his face. "There's a shortage of gorgeous women in my Master's stable. You'll make a fabulous addition to the herd."

He swung a fist at her head. She managed to dodge the first one, but the second caught her jaw and she collapsed to the rough stones beneath her.

* * *

Raphael flexed his muscles and felt the deep ache that told him they'd been working long and hard. He'd lost count of the fights he'd had tonight and the number of frightened victims he'd freed.

And it wasn't even midnight yet.

Raph found a convenient perch atop one of the many massive water towers balanced above the city and washed up from the spigot used to water the rooftop garden. While the cold water ran over his inflamed knuckles, he considered the street around him. From up here, it didn't look so bad. The lights were bright, the air was somewhat fresh and the filth of humanity was homogenized into a swath of shadows.

He sighed, turned off the water, and glanced at his phone. It had been a while since his last check in. He texted a quick update to his father, noting his location and condition. If he faltered in his watch, Sensei could take over for a time.

That was something it had taken him years to understand. A ninja listened to his body and if he didn't have to push it, he didn't. Resting did not equal running away. Raphael grimaced at his thoughts. At 28 years old, such things seemed more natural than they had at 18.

He closed his eyes, relaxed for a moment, and extended his senses into the night, meditating on his surroundings. This was something Splinter and Leo had been trying to teach him forever, but he'd only learned it recently from the girl.

He'd seen her do it enough lately. She'd escape to the roof after a nightmare and whisper "just breathe" into the silence of the night until she was one with the darkness. Her tears would stop, her worries fall away.

She radiated peace.

The expression on her face during those times drew him like a moth to a flame. He was helpless to resist her pull and he found himself creeping ever closer, to share a little of her serenity. Now, whenever Raph needed a break he pictured her with him, whispering, guiding him through the transformation.

A bomb dropped in his moment of silence.

 _Her_ voice rang out.

Loud and clear in the darkness, yet several streets away, her panicked cry sent a shot of adrenaline and rage through his tired body

"I have nothing! No drugs, no money, no weapons. Please, leave me be."

Raph moved. Pushing himself until the streets and sidewalks blurred below him. He leapt across the gaps between buildings and sprinted across the rooftops to reach her.

Raph heard a man as he slid to a stop above the narrow alley and peered over the edge. Cornered in a dead end, the frightened girl was staring upward. Raph followed her gaze and saw several Foot soldiers gathered on the fire escape.

"There's a shortage of gorgeous women in my Master's stable. You'll make a fabulous addition to the herd."

The thug's voice grated on Raph's last nerve and he looked away from the Foot in time to see a beefy fist connect with Emma's delicate jaw.

She went down like a ton of bricks and his vision tunneled.

With a deafening roar, a flip, and a tremendous crash Raphael landed in the alley between the girl and her assailant. All thoughts of concealment or stealth forgotten. His massive bulk struck a glancing blow to the thug as he straightened protectively in front of the angel sending the thug flying back into a stack of trash with a clatter.

Out of the darkness, five silent black clad ninjas dropped to the pavement.

"You shouldn't interfere in this, freak," a Foot soldier said, coming forward. "This city's full of wild fillies for you to stallion tonight. Go find another."

His companions snickered at the euphemism as they arrayed themselves to block the alley.

Raphael's rage deepened further at their assumption.

"You bet on the wrong horse, buddy," Raph spat. "This one's a thoroughbred and not for the likes of you."

With that, he sprang into action, fists and feet flying. The first three Foot went down in seconds. The remaining two tried to team up against him. He laughed in their faces and sent them into the wall. The thug was back on his feet and Raph surged toward him, lifting the unfortunate off his feet by the front of his shirt. He pulled the evil bastard close and glared into his face.

"What does your master want with this girl?"

The man's eyes bulged as Raph's grip tightened. Fear burned in his face for a split second before he lost consciousness. Frustrated, Raph tossed him to the side and spun to check on Emma.

The good news? She was completely out so she hadn't seen him. The bad news, this wasn't the first time she'd been roughed up tonight.

A hair raising growl sounded deep in his chest.

 _Who did this to my angel?_

For the second time in a matter of weeks, he shrugged out of his winter coat and wrapped the girl in it.

This time she seemed infinitely more fragile. She wasn't knocked out from a controlled burst of harmless gas. Her face was swelling, her dress was torn, and she moaned as he laid her gently back on the pavement. He was afraid move her. What if her injuries were more severe than he could see? He needed Donatello. NOW.

Raph whipped out his phone and called the command center. Something that almost never happened.

"Raphael! Are you alright my son?" Splinter's concerned voice answered on the first ring.

"I'm fine, Sensei, but I-I need Donnie and transport right away."

"What has occurred?"

"The civilian he's been searching for, Emma..." Raph took a deep breath to keep his voice calm. "I found her. She was under attack by the Foot. I took them out, but she's been injured."

"I gave Donatello your coordinates, my son." Splinter said. "I will cover your quadrant until the two of you decide what is best for the girl."

"Thank you, Father." Raph said. Hanging up, he turned his attention back to Emma.

She was dressed for a party but had no coat or purse. He could only assume she had lost them somewhere along her way. Her arm was turning black and blue, there was blood on her mouth, and a distinctive hand print was emerging around her neck.

 _How could this have happened?_

For two weeks he'd observed from afar and no one had made any overt moves toward her. The worst thing he had seen was her nightmares. He thought she was safe at home, recovering. But tonight, when she needed him the most, he hadn't been there.

And now he was waiting again, still unable to help her.

Thankfully, Donatello did not make him wait long. His brother pulled up in the van in record time and Raph laid Emma once again across the back seat. Don drove a few blocks, parked out of sight, and came back to asses the girl.

He whistled warily at her swelling cheek and bent to the task of examining her as Raph paced nervously nearby.

"Raph, calm down," Don said abruptly. All the fidgeting was making him nervous.

One look at Raph's face prompted Don to backpedal and employ the more soothing voice he reserved for when he was treating family and friends.

"So, uh, yeah... She's a little worked over, but I don't think anything is seriously wrong. Her wrist is sprained and will probably swell a little more. She's going to have a monster headache but the rest of her injuries are superficial." Don said.

He waited for some kind of response from his brother, but Raph stared at him and volunteered nothing.

"Plus, I don't see any signs of ... er... sexual trauma," Don continued, blushing as Raph turned a death glare on him. "Despite the torn dress and bruising... You see what happened?"

"No," Raph snarled.

His tone promised violence to whoever laid a hand on the girl, and Don began to think April's earlier theory might be right.

"I came across her as some street thug hit her," Raph said.

"And the bruises? "

Raph shook his head. "Don't know. Someone else got to her."

"The Foot?"

"Nah. They were the thug's back up. They didn't even engage 'til I sent him flyin'. Do you think she needs a hospital, Don?"

Raph tried to slip the question in nonchalantly but he wasn't fooling Donnie one bit.

"Raph," Don said with sympathy, "She's going to be fine. Don't beat yourself up over this. She's lucky you were nearby when it happened. Now the problem is what to do with her."

"Right. Lucky."

The condemnation in Raph's tone went over Don's head as he reached into the first aid kit and pulled out the supplies to wrap her wrist. He began to assess their options for the girl, musing aloud.

"Do you think she'll freak out if she wakes up back at April's? Or maybe the hospital isn't such a bad idea after all. It would at least make sense to her if a good samaritan called an ambulance."

"No," Raph said. "She's in hiding for a reason. If whoever's after her knows she's been injured they could be checking the hospitals. We'll take her home."

"Think about that for a minute," Don said. "Master Splinter would never allow it. She's not even an emergency case with these injuries."

Raph glared as if he was missing something important.

"Not our home, Don, hers."

Donatello decided to keep the words simple. His brother was obviously overwrought.

"Raph, we don't know where she lives."

Raphael turned a darker shade of green as he flushed and Don's eyes widened.

"I do."


	8. Breathe

**Breathe**

That wonderful soothing yet spicy scent wove its way once more through her being and pulled Morgan back to consciousness. She rolled over in bed and came fully awake as pain in her wrist made her cry out.

Memories crashed over her, torrents of terror too real to come from a nightmare blocked her throat. She thrashed around in the covers and moaned.

 _Where am I?_

A man knocked her out. There was no telling where she ended up.

She stifled her cries in a pillow and strained her senses for information. As her panicked heartbeat calmed, familiar noises and scents came to her. She sat up in disbelief, in her own bed, in her apartment. For one minute, she thought it might all be a dream.

No. Her right wrist hurt, despite the bandage. And from the feel of it, she suffered a sprained . Her jaw hurt, her head ached, and tender bruises ran up her arm. The injuries matched her memories.

 _But how did I get home?_

An incredible thought occurred to her. At first she dismissed it as too outlandish but the more she considered the more certain she became. Aside from the FBI, no one but her guardian knew where she lived. Somehow he found her. Saved her.

She winced as she reached across her body to press her watch. It announced: '2:10 AM, January 1st' in its mechanical voice. Only a few hours since Roman grabbed her.

 _Is it possible he's still here?_

She pulled herself upright, fought her way through a bout of nausea brought on by dizziness, and by pure force of will, got out of bed. She ran a hand down her front. She was still in her dress, torn and shedding sequins all over the bed and carpet.

She sighed as she made her way to the dresser, pulled out a nightgown and stumbled to the bathroom to change, if he was still here, she didn't need to flash him. She washed off what remained of her makeup,hissing as the soft washcloth came in contact with her swollen cheek. She brushed her hair and her teeth, and grabbed a robe before she felt ready to tackle the next steps.

She turned on the light, went to the sole window, and placed one hand flat on the glass. Her pounding head interfered and she concentrated a moment before she nodded. He was out there and close enough to hear her if she opened the window.

She managed to pry up the sash with one hand, and sat on the floor, exhausted from the effort. Tired, she rested her sore arms on the sill.

"I know you're out there," she whispered into the darkness of the night.

Raphael froze the moment she turned on the light and remained absolutely still in the scaffolding across from her apartment while she struggled with the window. He stayed, despite the fact it left his brothers short handed on one of their toughest patrols of the year. He wanted to make sure nothing else happened to the poor girl tonight.

He hoped she might get some sleep, instead she knelt inside the window talking to the open air.

"You've been shadowing me for weeks," she continued in her careful whisper. "I don't know why, or even who you are..."

As her voice trailed off, Raph found himself surprised and a little annoyed. She knew he followed her? Good thing Leo wasn't here, he'd never live it down. Some ninja he was if a civilian caught him tracking them. His heart sank. She must think him the worst kind of person; some crazy stalker she now needed to reason with or escape. And he was more than a little obsessed with her, he had to admit.

Her next words drove all thought from his mind.

"Thank you for saving me. I don't know how you found me so fast, or how you stopped them all, but thank you."

Her voice throbbed with sincerity and gratitude. It made Raph's stomach turn little flip-flops but he grimaced as he studied her bruised face in the light. He didn't find her fast enough to spare her either attack.

"Thank you for this as well," she gestured around her apartment with her uninjured hand. "The hospital would have been a disaster."

Her breathing sped thinking about it. A long pause followed as she controlled herself and collected her thoughts.

"I've been hiding from everybody for so long, sometimes I think I'm going insane." she said. "It took me a while to figure out how I got home. I wasn't even sure tonight happened at first, since I woke up back here, but I guess these kind of prove it."

She held out both injured arms and her face pinched bitterly.

"I'm tired of hiding," she said. "So, in case I do lose it, or something else happens to me, I'm going to fill you in... on everything."

Raph inhaled sharply. After all the wondering, the searching, and failing, to learn anything about her; the angel was going to tell him all about it? He couldn't believe it. Why would she trust him? Because he took out a couple of Foot goons?

Her next sentence froze him mid-thought.

"First, my name is not Emma," she shuddered. "God, how I hate that name! Emma was assigned to me by the ever popular Witness Protection Program. My name is Morgan."

 _Morgan. Her name is Morgan._

He mouthed it silently to himself. It fit her so much better than Emma. It felt right; It flowed off his tongue with ease. He was so caught up in the revelation of her name, it took a few moments for him to digest the rest of what she said. Raph's eyes widened.

 _Witness Protection? No wonder they couldn't find much on her. 'Splains all the coded checkpoints and the crazy routes home too._

"I never intended to live here. I grew up in small town USA. My parents are good people and I was their spoiled little princess. I went to preschool, took dance lessons, started school..." she laughed again. "I thought I was a normal kid. I didn't know there was anything different about me. I didn't know I was a freak, an aberration."

That phrase, more than any other in the English language, was guaranteed to set Raphael off. It had been applied to him and his brothers more times than he could count and he hated it. He could not for the life of him understand why Morgan would label herself with it.

He wanted to protest, violently, there was nothing wrong with her; she was perfect just as she was. Only an extreme application of willpower kept him motionless and silent. He did not want to interrupt her. Not now he was finally getting some answers.

"I didn't put it together until I turned seven and started school. The other kids noticed I moved differently, I needed strange books, and I was... odd in other ways.

Children can be so cruel."

She sighed and rested her forehead on her arms. Her next sentence muffled since she faced the floor. Raph strained to hear.

"Maybe you already know. You're a keen observer after all."

Her voice dropped even lower and he leaned toward her.

"I live in darkness. Compared to the normal populace, I'm blind."

Raph reared back stunned.

 _She can't see?_

He didn't understand. He watched her for weeks and she showed no signs of impaired vision. She didn't use one of those white and red canes. She didn't run into people or furnishings. She walked down the streets of New York, navigating around obstacles and interacting with everyone.

And April hadn't said anything about it. It didn't add up.

She didn't say anything for a long time. So long, in fact, Raph wasn't sure she would continue. He wanted to say something, anything, to keep her talking but he held his breath to stop the words from coming and gripped the scaffolding tight to keep himself locked in place.

She raised her head, but faced aimlessly down the street.

"My other senses compensate a lot," she offered. "My hearing is excellent."

That much he knew. She heard his quiet motions on the rooftop weeks ago when he first saw her and even detected him on the fire escape when he followed her home.

"My nose is extremely sensitive, and I can differentiate more taste sensations then anyone I know. Maybe it's why I like wine so much," she mused.

"Anyway," she shook her head, getting back on track, "that's not what makes me a freak. My other senses put me outside the norm.

I have an eidetic spatial memory. Once I've learned a room or a route, I can always recall it, even if it's only 'shown' to me in dimensional drawings or described in detail."

She drew in a deep breath before carrying on. These admissions were harder for her.

"Furniture and other inanimate objects are not a problem. As I approach them, the air... changes. I can always tell when I'm being watched. And,"

She hesitated. Not sure if she should share all but decided to go through with telling him everything.

"I can sense life. It's hard to describe, but living things give off a vibration different from inanimate objects. And each person or animal gives off their own individual sensations. So, I can tell people apart before they speak, and know if someone in front of me is someone I've met, or even been around, before."

She raised her gaze and faced across to his position. Raph examined her eyes as best he could from four feet away. They were a beautiful hazel, completely unique. The center of her iris, right around the pupil was brown streaked with gold. That color was ringed by a wider band of green and finally a smooth blue grey circle enclosed it all.

They were gorgeous and he couldn't believe she couldn't see him.

"So... that's how I know you're there. Your vibrations are familiar. They've been around for weeks and I felt your eyes on me. I don't know you. I can't see you, but I can sense you."

She hesitated again.

"And, if the wind shifts, I can smell you too."

Raph made a face. The one thing he hated about living in the sewer was the smell. Donatello's air exchangers took care of the scent in the lair but the surrounding tunnels were another story. Wading through the mush was not particularly pleasant, and he tried his best to keep it off him by traveling the rooftops instead. He even burned a ton of Sensei's special incense in his room at all hours.

No one had yet to detect him by scent, but with her sensitive nose? He must be revolting.

He repressed the urge to apologize.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, realizing what she said might sound like an insult. "I didn't mean to offend! I'm sure you smell great! Actually..."

A calculating look crossed her face before Morgan leaned out the window so far he thought she might fall. She took a deep breath through her nose as he was shifting toward her in a knee jerk reaction to her peril. The motion sent a waft of air directly at her.

She immediately pulled back into the apartment; her eyes huge in shock.

The scent of spice and smoke that assailed her was never far from her thoughts. That scent haunted her memories just before sleep and played havoc with her dreams. She never thought she'd find the owner of it, yet here he was playing vigilante outside her window.

Fear spasmed across her face as reactions stirred in her she never wanted to feel again. Warmth radiated through her body and muscles long unused clenched in her belly. Arousal hit her full in the gut, endorphins shot into her blood, and her heart pounded out of control.

 _This was a mistake. I can't be around him. Not if I react like this. Not after Charlie._

She needed to get away. She should slam the window, call Martin, and get him to move her. Right now. He would do it, all she had to do was say her position was compromised. With her bruises and her battered face there would be no question of when.

She raised shaking hands to the window casing to implement the plan.

Raphael saw the flash of fear and her shaking as she prepared to slam the window. She couldn't see him, he hadn't touched her, he hadn't even spoken to her. Why was she so afraid?

Scent. Something about the way he smelled scared her. He reached out a hand, helpless to stop her from closing him out of her life when she just let him in, but she hesitated.

"You were there during the attack at the Christmas party," she stated.

She associated him with the Dragons? No wonder she was afraid.

She seemed fearless at the time but maybe the stress overcome her later. He knew he should move, leave her alone, observe her from further away. Hell, he should let one of his brothers do the watching.

But she deserved more. She deserved a response.

"Morgan..." Raphael kept his voice low and as smooth as he could make it. It wouldn't do to frighten her more with his usual gravelly roar.

"I was there, but I'm not part of the gang. I would never hurt you. Please... don't go."

She started when he spoke, then froze like wild thing caught in a bright light. She knew he was there, but she hadn't been prepared for him to answer. He'd remained stoically silent until now. And what a voice! It was deep and resonated inside her. It made her feel all shivery.

All the more reason she should go. Now.

Yet she didn't. She stayed poised in the window, frozen with indecision. The sound of her name, her real name, after all these months was electrifying.

Raph decided to risk speaking again. He'd started down that path, there was no use clamming up now.

"Morgan, do you know the person who hurt you tonight?"

He thought for a moment she wasn't going to answer but her lips trembled and she nodded. A second later she shook her head in confusion. She put a hand to her neck and touched her bound wrist.

"These were from someone I know," she whispered and silent tears began to well in her eyes, "I've never met the men in the alley."

Raph's eyes hardened and a growl tried to escape his throat. He pushed it back. She had enough fear in her life. He did not want her afraid of him too. At least, not anymore than she already was. He fought hard to keep his voice in check.

"Who was it, Morgan?" He prompted her. "Your boyfriend? A date?"

The words were bitter in his mouth. He didn't understand how anyone graced with her presence could be so callous and cruel. She shook her head, dazedly.

"No boyfriend," she murmured, almost too low to hear.

Her head was pounding in time with her heart and she couldn't seem to focus.

"He attacked me at the party," she said, almost absently, as she kneaded her forehead with her good hand. "He said if I reported him, no one would believe me because I can't see."

Inside, Raphael was exploding with curses, in several different languages. He didn't know enough vile words to describe this man, whoever he might be.

 _How dare anyone treat such an angel this way?_

They dared because they thought her helpless and undefended, Raph realized. Just like that guy behind the bar tonight.

"He- He wanted my body," she stuttered, "But he wasn't as bad as Charlie, oh no. Not nearly in Charlie's league."

Raph's head snapped up and his mouth dropped open in horror.

Had she been raped?

Donnie didn't think so, but then his shy brother probably didn't want to invade her privacy too much to check closely. If that man violated her, he'd never forgive himself for not being there. And who the hell was Charlie? Not the man who hurt her tonight, he could tell, but maybe he was the cause of her terrible dreams. His fists clenched on the scaffolding so tight the pole in front of him bent in response.

"What. did. he. do?"

This time Raph's voice was not so controlled. More than a little anger forced its way out in a menacing rumble. Morgan's body shuddered in reaction and more endorphins flowed. His ire was protective, directed at those who hurt her, but she couldn't tell him. Not about Roman and definitely not about Charlie. She hadn't even been able to tell the authorities or her therapist everything _he_ had done.

She shook her head silently, then grabbed the window sill to steady herself. Her headache was making her dizzy again. She sensed him move instinctively toward her, then back off again.

"Does he know where you live?" the guttural voice asked. His frustration was evident, and Morgan flinched a little in response.

"I-I don't think so," she replied. Then another thought occurred to her. "Oh God! He'll see me tomorrow."

She dissolved into tears she couldn't control and Raphael lost it.

"No, he won't!" he said. "It was someone from work? Tell me who it was and I'll take care of it!"

She shook where she stood, her arms crossed defensively across her chest; unable to speak through her emotional horror.

He couldn't stand to see her like this. He'd just have to swallow his pride and take the punishment for holding back her location from the others. He couldn't handle this alone. Besides Donnie already knew, even though he promised to keep it quiet. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Raph?"

April's voice was groggy, she and Casey only just got to bed. "What's wrong?"

"April, I'm at Emma's," Raph got out before April interrupted with a resounding "What?"

"I'll explain when you get here. I need you, she's hysterical," Raph said.

"She saw you?" April was aghast.

"No, she was... A man forced her to... Just help me! Ok?" Raph yelled, his voice cracking.

"Ok, Raph. I'm on my way."

A panicking Raph was unheard of, so she checked the position of his tracker on her phone before adding.

"10 minutes, hold on."

* * *

April didn't know what she expected when she arrived, but it wasn't to see Raphael in plain view waving at her from a scaffolding and pointing frantically across the way at an open window on the fifth floor. An inconsolable young woman stood there, crying her eyes out.

April was shocked. It wasn't like Raph to be so careless. If Emma stopped crying she'd see him there for sure.

In a rush to head off such an unfortunate occurrence, April hurried around to the front entrance. The door to the building was buzzer operated but Donatello had long ago gifted her with a device to override most electronic locks. She chuckled as she pulled it from her bag. It came in handy for investigative snooping.

As she raised her device into position she saw small scrapes on the panel exactly the same size; telltale marks which told her another device had been used here recently. Her eyes narrowed. The only other one like hers was Donnie's.

Don came through here tonight? Two nights ago, they had no knowledge of Emma's whereabouts.

Raph had some explaining to do.

April entered, flipped the switch on the electromagnetic disruptor Don built into her handbag to fuzz any security cameras in the building and sprinted for the stairs.

Panting a little from the climb to the fifth floor, she stopped, listened, and followed the sounds of sobbing to 5C where she knocked. The noise cut off and April crossed her fingers the girl would even answer the door. Emma was in hiding and April was unexpected.

"Emma? Emma, it's April. Please let me in," April called.

There was a quiet sniffle on the other side of the door.

"April?"

"April. From the Christmas party and the jewelry shop, remember?"

April leaned up against the door and waited. What were her options if the girl didn't open up? She could pick the lock but she didn't want to scare Emma more; especially since she was already on edge. She heard the unmistakable rumble of Raphael's deep voice and stepped back, surprised. Raph was speaking to her?

A moment later the door opened a tiny bit. April squeezed in and shut it behind her. Emma looked awful. She backed up when April entered and stopped listlessly in the center of the studio apartment, bruised and broken. Her eyes were swollen and red, and she shook where she stood.

"Emma, my god!" April said, moving forward to hug the girl.

Emma burst into tears again and collapsed in April's arms. April guided her to the edge of the bed and helped her sit, wrapping her in a protective embrace and holding her while she cried. She mumbled soft nonsense and stroked her hair reassuringly.

April glanced out the window to see Raph still poised on the scaffolding. His expression wavered back and forth between helplessness and absolute fury as he peered intently at them. While the rage was familiar, the vulnerable look tore at April's heart. It was something she'd never expected to see. Raph was confident, outspoken, rash, restless, and hot-headed but never helpless.

As Emma's sobs quieted somewhat, April began to probe the situation. From what Raph said earlier, Emma had been attacked and her bruises attested to that. But where? Who had done it? And was it related to the reason she was hiding?

April would have to chose her words cautiously if she didn't want to upset the girl further.

"Sweetie, did you go out tonight?" April asked.

That seemed like a safe place to start, since it was New Year's Eve. Emma sighed and hiccuped a couple of times before answering.

"There was a party at the 'Empire Night' hotel. I went with a group of girls from work." She laughed bitterly. "I thought I'd be ok. There were seven of us, and what were the chances of another party being attacked?"

"Another party was attacked?" April asked. She hadn't heard anything about it on the news or police band.

"No, not the party," Emma said, "just me."

April exchanged glances with Raphael who listened from outside the window.

"That's horrible! Did it happen at the hotel?"

"Yes. This guy got super aggressive so I tried to get away through the crowd."

Emma's voice grew louder, but April thought the girl wasn't aware of it.

"Did you know him?"

"I got confused, I thought- I thought he was Charlie and he was going to force me to go back!"

Emma's voice rose again.

"Go back where? Emma who's Charlie?"

But Emma began screaming in earnest and it was pure unadulterated terror given human voice. Whatever this Charlie did to her was worse than anything April could imagine. The sound went on and on, and April pulled back, afraid she would have to slap the girl to snap her out of it before one of the neighbors called the police.

Before she could, Raphael was in the apartment.

April froze, astounded, as he knelt directly in front of Emma and stared into her face. What was he doing?

"Morgan," Raphael said, his voice gentler than April had ever heard it, "just breathe..."

The girl's eyes flew wide, her nostrils flared, and the screaming ceased as if Raph flipped a switch. Seconds later, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted on April"s shoulder.

April's mouth dropped open. _What the HELL?_

She laid Emma over gently on the bed, stood and smacked Raph across the face as hard as she could. He blinked at her and raised a hand to his cheek in surprise. Her little hand didn't do any damage, it was hardly more than a sting, but she'd never struck him before.

"Raphael Hamato!" April said, her voice hissing through her teeth, "Did you just scare a young woman into fainting?"

"What?"

It was such a crazy accusation he wasn't even angry. He had absolutely no idea what April was talking about.

She watched his face as she shook out her hand. That really hurt. Obviously hitting him had been a mistake. But April was upset, so she spelled it out for him.

"Did you not just make that girl pass out by deliberately startling her with the appearance of a talking mutant NINJA turtle in her living room?"

She didn't understand his behaviour regarding this girl. She could of sworn he liked her. Hell, more than liked her, now this?

Raphael stood and backed off, a hurt look on his face.

"Of course not," he said from across the room. "You think I would do something like that?"

"Raph, you know I love you to death, but I watched you shove your face into hers!" April said. "You may have exchanged a few words from the shadows, but I doubt she'd seen you!"

"She didn't see me," Raph said.

His quiet insistence confused her. April thought it over as she walked back to Emma and put her in bed properly, pulling the covers up to her chin and smoothing them before she turned back to Raphael. He still looked hurt. She shouldn't have accused him of something so vile.

"Ok," she said breathing out a sigh. "I obviously don't have all the facts. I'm sorry Raph. I-I just... what I saw doesn't make sense."

Raphael forced himself to imagine the situation from her point of view. It must seem like he'd gone insane. She knew he was the most protective of their secret existence and there was no way she could have known about his history with the girl or her impairment. In that light, his actions seemed cruel and inexcusable.

"S'okay, April," he said. "Hell, even I didn't know until tonight. She's blind."

April's mouth dropped open in a silent "oh."

"Wait, what?"

Raphael sighed, and motioned to the small loveseat. The both sat. It was a tight fit, with his shell and all, but April was used to such things.

"She told me, before she went all hysterical... the first time," Raph said.

April's eyes narrowed.

"Raphael, what's going on. If Emma was attacked at the hotel, how did you and Don end up bringing her home? How did you know where home was? And how did she know you were outside the window to talk to?"

"Morgan," he said, as if it was vitally important. "Her name is Morgan."

April's eyes widened, but she said nothing, merely waited for him to continue. He considered her solemn face and was surprised he felt like telling her everything. He hadn't thought about confiding in April before but she had been his friend for years and if anyone could keep a secret it was her.

Still, where to begin? He wasn't good with expressing emotions and shit.

"April, I wanna tell you something, but I ain't sure..."

"You like her."

April said it like it was simple fact. Raphael pulled back from her in surprise. She knew?

"Is it obvious?"

April laughed and put her small hand over his much larger one.

"Only to me. A girl notices these things."

So Raph told her everything. From their first encounter on the roof of Angel Automotive, so many weeks ago, to installing the cameras to watch her building, to saving her from the Foot in the alley this evening. He told her about Morgan's special kind of quiet serenity. He told her about the nightmares and his vigil. And he told her of Morgan's confessions.

April listened through it all watching his face for the things he did not say. She was right. He didn't just like this girl, he was in love with her. But he hadn't admitted it, even to himself.

And Morgan's story was intriguing. April's curiosity kicked into high gear during the tale, wondering about the mysterious Charlie and what the FBI wanted Morgan to do. But first there was the more serious problem of her attackers tonight.

Really, the poor girl had the worst luck.

April was about to get up and check on her when there was a loud knock at the door. Someone was practically banging it down. April glanced at Raph, but he'd disappeared. She knew he hadn't left, just made himself invisible as it were. If this noisy intruder turned out to be dangerous, he'd be right back in here to take care of it. Especially with Morgan in the room.

April went to the door, put the chain on and opened it a crack. Her green eyes flashing with anger.

"Do you have any idea what time it is? You trying to wake the whole building?" she asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice. "What do you want?"

The man outside seemed surprised to see her. He checked the number on the door and looked again at her face. He was short, neatly dressed in a black suit, and held a gun in his hand. He saw April staring at the weapon, flushed, and holstered it.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said. "I got a call about a disturbance here, you know anything about it?"

"You have a badge?"

She doubted this was the attacker. Emma hadn't thought the man knew where she lived. More likely, this was her FBI contact. April sighed to herself.

How was this going to play out?


	9. Shock

**Shock**

Donatello's fingers flew rapidly over the keyboard, making short work of the government firewall. It took less than sixty seconds for him to get inside. He harrumphed to himself, irritated with the basic nature of their security systems. He wouldn't use something this simple to protect his iPod.

He sighed as he compromised the database and started searching the files. Most of the time, he avoided the information in the Witness Protection program. Ninety-percent of the people in there were innocent and deserved to keep their new life separate from the old. It was why he missed her the first time around.

But this was a special situation. The past was catching up to this girl, and if Raphael was as invested in her as April thought, they were going to be involved when the shit hit the fan. Just how much was the question.

Her new name wasn't cross-referenced with her history, but knowing her real first name and she came from the West coast, he easily found her file.

Don's eyes narrowed as he skimmed it and copied it to his desktop.

 **Morgan Alexandra Jennings-** 26, originally from somewhere small in Nevada. Moved to Los Angeles at age 20 and started work for DeWillis Personnel, an HR and money management firm with a decent reputation. Personal Assistant to one Charles Hargrove, President.

Don swallowed hard at the name. Raphael filled him in a little as they drove the girl home last night, telling him of her nightmares. Combined with the screaming fit from April's apartment, he thought she suffered from some rather severe post-traumatic stress and shock, most likely due to mental or physical abuse.

When Raph came home this morning, he stopped by the lab and dropped the name Charlie. Said she freaked out whenever anyone mentioned it. Could the man abusing her be her ex-boss?

He switched terminals and searched his underground network for information on DeWillis. As he thought, it was a front. A corporation making a decent profit on the surface, but underneath doing something a lot more lucrative.

He dug back into the FBI computers, unearthing their files on the company and its President. Hargrove's file contained hundreds of alleged crimes, but the agents couldn't make any kind of charges stick. They knew he was no good, but he greased all the right palms, bribed all the right officials, and got away with all kinds of dirty deeds.

He went back to Morgan's file and saw a folder marked 'evidence.' He clicked eagerly, wanting to see what the FBI wanted from her. It wasn't the kind of statement he'd been expecting.

Inside, photos and x-rays of the pretty little brunette covered every page. Don took one look and gagged, his stomach turning. The poor girl had suffered horribly. The x-rays showed practically every bone in her body had been broken at one time or another and pictures taken with a special camera that revealed old bruises under the skin registered so many it made her seem like a zombie.

But the worst mark was a raised brand along the top of her right hip. Two inches long, it consisted of a capital 'OS' with a double slash through it imposed over an outline shaped exactly like the logo of the Foot Clan.

Don cursed; something he almost never did since he believed there was always something more eloquent to say. He blew the image up, examined it again, and cursed some more. He'd seen this emblem before though never branded on a human being.

This badge marked the personal property of Oroku Saki, the Shredder.

* * *

April stared at the man standing outside Morgan's door with suspicion. What would Emma, no, Morgan want to do about this FBI agent checking in on her? If April told this man about the attack, they might move her- change her job- possibly send her to another state.

While she thought about this, the man at the door hesitated. Finally, he pulled out his badge as requested and showed it to April. She widened her eyes and pretended surprise at the FBI logo, noting his name.

Martin Moore. This was the mysterious Martin from the phone contact list. The one she'd presumably needed to check in with. April bet she hadn't tonight. Why else was he on her doorstep? She unchained the door and opened it a bit more to give the appearance she wasn't hiding anything.

"Agent Moore, I'm not sure why the FBI would be interested, but my friend simply had a nightmare. I'm sorry if the noise woke the neighbors. Emma's had a rather trying evening."

"So, Miss Hammerstein is in?"

"Yes, but she's resting now."

"And you are?"

"Amanda Nelson."

The lie rolled off April's tongue easily. She had several impeccable false identities created for her over the years by the talented Donatello, and she knew this one would stand FBI scrutiny.

She mostly used them to keep people like this in the dark. It was rarely a good thing to let government entities know her movements. Even the 'good' agents had a nasty habit of sharing information with other departments. Some of those had rather too much interest in the guys. Agent Bishop of the CIA jumped rapidly to mind.

Agent Moore eyed her warily, peering past her into the apartment and trying to make out Emma's form on the bed. April stepped back so he could see and the light from the hall fell across her. Morgan lay facing them, the bruised portion of her face sunk into the pillows. All her other injuries were covered with blankets and her robe.

Agent Moore stepped back. "Ms. Nelson, Why are you here tonight? And how do you know Miss Hammerstein?"

"I could ask you the same questions, Agent Moore. We're friends. It's New Year's Eve. We went to a party. Emma got upset and I brought her home. Now I'm sorry if the neighbors were awakened, but it's hardly the first time she's had a screaming nightmare. And I seriously doubt it warrants a visit from the FBI at three in the morning."

April let a tiny bit of exasperation and suspicion enter her voice. She wasn't above pressuring the guy into thinking he was going to blow Morgan's cover, if it meant he backed off for the time being.

"As you can see, Emma is quiet now and I intend to stay and make sure she's ok tonight. So if there's nothing else?"

Agent Moore took a final glance at Emma and shook his head.

"No, that will be all Ms. Nelson. Thank you for your time."

"Goodnight, Agent Moore."

April shut the door firmly in his face and leaned against it, watching through the peephole until he went down the stairs. A small rush of air at her back let her know Raphael was back in the room.

"He's gone," she said with a sigh.

"For now," was the answering growl.

* * *

Morgan stirred and groaned as she came slowly awake. Last night had been such a disaster she didn't want it to be real. Today, there was no waking in a panic, merely a dull sense of hopelessness.

It was a feeling she thought she'd left behind her when she started her new life, but the universe had other plans. Every time she took a step forward, the city slapped her back down. She moaned, trying not to give into depression, but it was hard when her body ached again from abuse, reminding her of everything she hoped to escape.

She rested her forehead against her good arm and wept, so distracted she missed the other presence in the room. She started as the bed dipped next to her but the aura of April O'Neil and gentle hands stroking her hair soothed her. "It's going to be alright, Morgan."

Like before the sound of her real name was a magic balm to her frazzled nerves and she shivered reflexively, relaxing for one brief moment, before her brain began to wake up and her thoughts made her tense again.

"No. Oh-no no no. I didn't check in and I'm late for work!"

Morgan pressed her hands into the mattress to get up and hissed in pain as her right wrist collapsed under her weight. April grabbed at her before she fell off the bed.

"Martin's going to be so angry. And work! I can't! I can't face... him."

She dissolved into panicked tears. What was she going to do? April helped her sit up and pulled her close.

"Shh. It's going to be ok, Morgan. I already called your boss and reported you sick."

"But Martin..."

Morgan shut her mouth with a snap. April didn't know Martin. God, she was going to blow her own cover at this rate. Suddenly, she realized April called her Morgan. Twice. And how had she known who to call at work?

"I had the pleasure of meeting Agent Moore last night around 3 AM, shortly after you passed out. He kept the apartment under surveillance all night and he will probably stop by again today."

Morgan felt her mouth drop open as April spoke.

"How? What? April, I don't understand."

"Well, that makes two of us," April said, laughing lightly. "We should catch up. From what Raph told me, you had a rather rough night."

"Raph?"

"My friend, Raphael. The one who carried you out of the Vallen building and found you last night in an alley. He brought you home. I thought you spoke to him."

 _Raphael. My guardian has a name._

The memory of his deep voice and his heavenly scent made her shiver. April noticed but merely tightened her hug around the girl, chalking it up to the trauma of the night before.

"I'm sorry, Morgan. I know it's hard to think about, but we should go through it, if only so our stories match for your friend Mr. Moore."

"What?"

"I wasn't sure what you'd want him to know, so I put him off with a story. I told him we went to a party, you got upset and I brought you home. I should also tell you I used an alias. I told him my name was Amanda Nelson."

"What about these?"

Morgan gestured to her face and the bruises on her arm. She could make them disappear, with some effort, but if Martin already saw them...

"They were covered up."

Morgan considered a moment. "April, why did you lie to the FBI?"

"To protect you. I didn't know if either attack was related to the reason you're hiding, and I couldn't be sure Mr. Moore was who he said he was."

"You know I'm hiding."

"I know what you said last night, nothing more."

Morgan shook her head and her jaw throbbed, reminding her how dangerous the situation was, even if last night's events were unrelated. This was wrong. She shouldn't put these people in harm's way. Her confession to the vigilante was ill-advised and she wished she could take it back.

If Charlie ever found her... He warned her what would happen if she tried to escape. All her friends, relatives, anyone at all who sheltered or protected her would suffer. She didn't want any more people getting hurt. Not because of her.

"Morgan, whatever this is, you don't need to face alone," April said, trying to get the girl to open up.

"You shouldn't get involved, April. This isn't something you can protect me from with some news exposure. I'm not even sure the FBI can keep me safe."

"So last night was related to why you're hiding?"

"Last night had nothing to do with it. At least, not the first part," Morgan said rubbing her arm. "I went out with some of the girls from work like I told...Raph. The guy who sits in the cube across from me, a real creep, crashed the party and drove everyone I knew away. He- he tried to take advantage of me. Thought he could get away with it be- because I can't see."

"The same creep from the Vallen party?"

Morgan nodded, "Roman."

"Did anything... happen?"

April didn't like having to ask, but the way Raph acted last night, he would kill the guy if he found out Morgan was raped. Better she know now so she could get in front of the problem and get Leonardo, or even Master Splinter, to stop him if necessary. Morgan shook her head and April breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"He grabbed me. I twisted my wrist getting away. I think I hurt him more than he did me. I bit his tongue and I'm pretty sure my heel went through his foot."

April winced. The bruises were bad enough. She wasn't about to tell Raph the guy had his tongue in her mouth.

"So, how did you end up in the alley?"

Morgan blushed, the red running right up into her hair.

"I ran."

"Well, that's understandable."

"I thought he was chasing me."

"Roman?"

Morgan shook her head and whispered " _Charlie_."

April gently clasped the girl's hand in both of hers. She knew better than to ask who Charlie was or what he had done to her. Last night those questions set off a fit. Besides, Don could acquire that info from the FBI database, now he knew where to look. What they needed to know was if Charlie was here, what kind of a threat he posed, and how he was tied to the Foot clan.

"Morgan, do you think he's here in the city?"

"Oh god, I hope not."

* * *

Raphael had never despised daylight so much in his life. He wanted to stay at Morgan's apartment. Wanted to watch over her and reassure her everything was going to be ok. Promise her nobody, and he meant NOBODY, would ever touch her without her consent again.

But that was impossible, so he left the next best thing. April swore to stay with her as long as possible. To take care of her since he could not. He hoped Morgan would open up to her. April was female and a good listener so Morgan might be able to tell her who attacked, besides the Foot.

Raph had to know. Whoever this guy was, he needed a lesson in how to treat a lady. When he was done, the whole world would understand Morgan was no longer undefended.

Donatello stuck his head out of his lab and frowned when he saw Raph pacing the living room. He hoped to chat with Leonardo before sharing the information he'd discovered with Raph.

"You seen Leo?" Don called across the chamber.

Raph glanced up, startled out of his thoughts, and snorted.

"The dojo."

"Ah, thanks. Actually, you better come too. I've got some info to share on Emma, er, Morgan."

Michelangelo's head popped out of the kitchen.

"April texted, Morgan's awake!" he said with a smile. His expression dropped into a frown as he stared at his phone, "She's not doing so well. She's scared and jittery."

"Well, she ain't gonna be all bright an happy! She got hurt twice in one night, and where were we?" Raph snapped.

"Doing our job."

The quiet, calm response came from the blue banded leader as he exited the dojo. He speared Raphael with a glare, silently reminding him they still needed to discuss his hiding Emma's whereabouts from the team, before turning to Don.

"You got something for us?"

"Morgan is an unusually strong young lady," Don said. "I ran the full gambit of tests on the samples I took off her last night. So far, I haven't found anything to explain her other senses, but her DNA is not exactly what I'd call normal so it's going to take some time to go through."

Don glanced hesitantly at Raph before continuing.

"The blood I took off her lips wasn't hers. The profile came back male and there was rather a lot of saliva mixed in."

Raph growled low in his throat and began mumbling death threats under his breath. If he only knew who the guy was...

"What does that mean?" Mikey asked.

Leo and Don exchanged uneasy glances, neither wanted to spell it out, but their brother wasn't some innocent little teenager anymore.

"Most likely, the guy was, uh... trying to french kiss her rather forcefully and she bit him," Don said, making his words as delicate as he could.

"It was _that_ kind of attack?" Mikey's eyes widened then narrowed dangerously. "Roman has a lot to answer for."

"Roman?" Raph asked, latching on to this new piece of information.

"Yeah, April texted it over. The guy who went after her at the party is a co-worker named Roman."

"Raph! Get back here!" Leo ordered as Raphael spun and headed for the exit. "I don't care how angry you are, you are not going out there now to beat this guy up."

 _Not until nightfall._ It remained unspoken but the anger in Leo's own voice implied Raph wasn't going to be alone on his little revenge binge. Raph clenched his fists and slammed one into the nearest wall, bloodying his knuckles, but he stayed put. As soon as Leo was sure Raph was going to obey, he turned back to Don.

"And the reason she's in hiding?"

"Well..." Don sighed and decided to start with the least damaging information first. "The FBI are extremely interested nailing this Charlie guy. He runs a rather successful business enterprise out in L.A. but it's a front for his criminal activities. If they ever find enough evidence to charge the guy with something, Morgan is going to be their star witness."

"What kind of activities?" Mikey asked. Don shook his head in disgust.

"The worst kind. Charlie is the head of a syndicate which traffics in humans. His specialty is girls in their late teens to early 30's. He caters to other high class criminals, providing them with full service escorts."

"Do you think Morgan was one of his girls and she escaped somehow?" Leo asked.

"What?" Raphael was a volcano about to erupt. "Some nasty ass crime lord has been pimping out the angel? As in 'for rent' by the evening?"

Donatello gave him a funny look, part sorrow, part something else Raph didn't quite catch. Almost pity.

"I'm afraid it's a bit worse than that."

"Worse?" Raph's voice dropped to a horrified whisper.

"According to the FBI database, Morgan has history with the guy. She started as his work assistant, before moving into his mansion when her services became a lot more personal."

Raphael's arm shot out and he grabbed his gentle brother by the front of his plastron, hauling Don in close to his face. He mashed their foreheads together and glared into his sibling's brown eyes.

"You're wrong," he growled. "She ain't that kinda girl."

"Woah, Raph! Don's not saying anything of the sort," Leo said.

Don raised his hands in surrender, blinking at him and the pity was back in his eyes as Raph set him on his feet.

"I don't think she had a choice, Raph," Don said. "According to their records, the guy's a controlling sadist. She was confined to the house and rarely left."

"She was a prisoner?" Leo asked and Don nodded.

"He held her for almost _six years_ , grooming her for a special client. It's no wonder the girl freaks out at his name. I can't imagine the kind of post-traumatic stress she's facing. Her FBI psych evaluation said she was suicidal when they found her. She escaped from the manor house, but was about to jump off a bridge when they scooped her up."

Raph's blood was freezing in his veins as he listened to this list of horrors. Morgan, his sweet angel, was more broken than he could have ever imagined. His thoughts flashed back to those nights on the roof where she hovered way too close to the edge for his comfort. Had she been considering jumping again?

"But he's on the West coast, right?" Mikey asked. "So she should be safe here."

Don grimaced.

"I doubt there's a safe city in the U.S. for this girl. Charlie's connections are quite strong and he's got a long arm. His agents are all over 'recruiting' and doing other nefarious thing and they've all been alerted to search for her."

"How do you know?" Raph asked, his voice subdued.

"I hacked the server he's using to run his cover company. It wasn't to hard to get into his personal machine from there. She's a valuable piece of merchandise and they want her back. There's a price on her head, a big one."

"Because she escaped?" Leo asked, as Mikey exclaimed, "Poor thing!"

Don shook his head.

"Because the client she was being 'trained' for still wants her," he paused, reluctant to reveal the next piece of information but decided at least part of it had to be told. "It gets worse."

He gave Leo a direct look. One the leader knew meant whatever Don said next was not the really bad part. Whatever it was, it was so bad Don didn't want Raph and Mikey to hear.

"I'm beginin' to hate that phrase Donnie," Raph growled.

"Charlie's recently sold his lucrative shell company at a huge loss. I think it's to pay off, or at least appease, the 'special' client."

"To who?" Leo asked

"Vallen Industries."

* * *

Master Splinter was making his afternoon tea when Leonardo and Donatello came to his room. Their solemn faces and dampened auras warned him before they even said a word that some new crisis had landed on their doorstep.

Leonardo stood calmly, but the small muscles of his face betrayed an anger rare for his eldest son. Donatello held a stack of photographs in his hand and his face showed disgust mixed with pity as he shifted restlessly from foot to foot.

This was not good.

The wise rat sighed and seated himself at the table, gesturing for the two to approach and close the door. Both bowed respectfully to him before taking a seat on the cushions opposite. Splinter poured the tea, and pushed the two cups towards his sons, inhaling the aroma before sipping his own and savoring a last moment of peace before the turbulence began anew.

"So?" he said, at last, with twitch of his whiskers and a raised brow. Leonardo spoke first.

"Master, I know you sensed the changes in Raphael we all noticed lately," he said.

The rat confirmed this with a small nod of his head, staring down his long nose at his sons.

"We did not wish to intrude upon his privacy, but I believe we found the root of his behavior. There is a young woman he seems to be... attached to," Leo was trying to put it delicately. He didn't know the true extent of his brother's feelings, but his actions spoke loud and clear.

"You do not approve?" Splinter asked. "Is there a problem with this young woman?"

"I have no basis for such a judgment, Master," Leo replied, "But the young lady in question is in serious danger. She is the civilian April befriended who disappeared."

"Ah, the one who pulled Raphael from his duties last night," Splinter said, "I had begun to suspect something of the sort."

Leo nodded and Donatello spoke.

"She is hiding in the city, far from a dangerous criminal who hurt her, but I think she's run in the wrong direction. The man who held her, did so for another. His task was to break her and mold her into the image his client required. She resisted for almost six years."

Splinter grimace at the bleak expression on his son's face. Donatello had seen much, in his 28 years, that his father wished he had not. But rarely had what he'd seen disturbed him this much. Splinter sensed anger and a certain savagery spilling from both of his sons, at a level he'd never detected before.

"You fear your brother is not up to the task of defending this young woman?" Splinter probed, searching for the reason behind their rage.

"I don't think Raph can handle what's been _done_ to her, Father," Donatello said, handing over the photos.

Splinter took them. The topmost was from his son's phone last night, documenting the girl's injuries, as he had taught them. It was proof they delivered anonymously to victims who wished to pursue damages through the human legal system.

In this photo, the lovely girl could be asleep, aside from the fact she lay in a dark alley with bruises on her neck and a swollen face. But each picture after the first, excerpts from the FBI file, made his eyes widen in horror; until the last- a close up of the scarred brand- slipped from his nerveless fingers.

Splinter closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. He braced both hands on the table and stared up into the grim faces of his sons.

"You believe your brother has feelings for this girl?"

"April believes he's in love with her though they have barely spoken," Donatello replied, his voice forlorn.

"And does she return these feelings?"

"We have no way of knowing, Father," Leonardo said.

"But she has accepted him? Our mutation?"

"She doesn't know," Don said. "She cannot see and we have only touched her when she was unconscious."

"She was attacked by the Foot last night?"

"Yes, father," Don said.

"They were trying to bring her in?"

"I don't think they knew who she was, or the thug wouldn't have hit her. I think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Leo said.

"Has the Shredder ever laid hands on her?"

"I don't believe so," Donnie replied. "Her statement only contains references to the man who was trying to break her. But, Father, he's coming here. This Charlie has received a tip she's hiding in the city. If he finds her, I have no doubt he'll hand her over to Shredder to regain his company."

"Then we can at least spare her that final humiliation. Leonardo," he ordered, "take Raphael and collect this girl. Bring her here at nightfall, before it is too late. After you get her settled, I will speak with Raphael about his... choices."

"Hai, Sensei."


	10. Fighting to Believe

Charles Hargrove tapped his fingers on the table in front of him and once again picked up the scroll, holding the top and sliding his hand down to unroll the delicate parchment. His eyes skimmed the formal summons from right to left, catching on the phrases requesting his immediate, personal attendance.

It wasn't an invitation but an order.

He glanced up and leaned out of the way as a stewardess came into view and reached across his lap to set a glass of wine on the tray next to him. He turned the scroll away as she did so. It was unlikely the girl read Japanese, but in his line of work nothing could be left to chance. Anyone might be the enemy.

He gave her a smile and a wink to distract her from his hands as he rolled the paper swiftly up.

The blonde smiled back, flipping her hair and flaunting her legs as she turned, flirting with this obviously successful business man. The twinkle in her eye indicated she found him attractive with his tall stature, muscular physique, and dark, close-trimmed hair; Rakish with his sharp mustache and pointed goatee.

She rested a hand on his arm. "Can I get you anything else, sir?"

Charlie barely stopped himself from striking her. Instead, he shook his head and she moved off disappointed. Normally, this journey would be made in his private charter jet with girls far more to his taste. Small, petite brunettes who knew better than to touch him without permission, but circumstances beyond his control meant this time he had to fly first class on a commercial plane from L.A. to New York. Alone.

He shook his head again, wishing for the thousandth time Morgan occupied the seat beside him. She should. It was long past time for delivery, but the little minx was by far his favorite and he dreaded giving her up to the client.

He had delayed the inevitable, putting Saki off with falsified reports on her slow progress, when in reality, she had proven suitable long ago. He simply wasn't ready to give her up, even after six years. She was the one girl he never tired of; the only one he had never truly broken.

Oh, she understood the rules; she behaved herself in public, turned a blind eye to his activities, and was practiced in the art of pleasing men.

But underneath he sensed her seething, always searching; fighting to believe she had a chance to be free. Her spirit remained undaunted and, when pushed, she was a tiger in the bedroom. He saw it in her eyes. Though she could not see the pleasure he derived from dominating her, despite her fury. This was the quality which Saki sought. A challenge which could not be ignored and would take years to conquer.

However, over time his people grew complacent around her, lax in her confinement. After so long, they believed in her obedience to the house rules. They left her alone more often.

One day, he arrived home to find her absent. Vanished into thin air.

Of course, those responsible were no longer with him. They were no longer with anybody, but he still found himself in a predicament. He faced a restless and dangerous client with no merchandise. Backups existed, but none as imminently suitable as she.

For six months, he sought the girl everywhere, putting a huge price out for her safe return. She couldn't disappear. Somebody knew her hiding place.

Last week, Saki seized the controlling share in Charlie's company to get his attention, his actions clearly stating he would no longer wait for his prize. Now Charlie must explain, in person, the loss of the one thing they both wanted.

The fasten safety belt sign flashed on above his head with a bong, and the stewardess announced their imminent arrival. New York City. His mood soured even thinking the name. He hated this place; its stink and the crowded masses. Unconsciously, his lip curled into a snarl.

He reached for his drink to soothe himself and a salacious flash of memory crossed his mind; Morgan holding a glass teasingly to her lips, sipping sensually. She loved wine though she would not be impressed by this vintage. He suppressed a smile as he imagined her expression when presented with an inferior beverage. He knew her so well.

A thought occurred to him. She knew him as well, and she was clever. So where would she go to get away from him? The place he hated most of course. New York.

He smiled a feral, evil grin at the thought of a new game with her. Hunting her through this urban jungle would be quite an entertaining diversion. All he needed to do was flush her out. Once she started running he'd have her for sure. There was no way she had learned enough about the city after such a short time to play 'keep away' from him for long.

His meeting with Saki was a week from today. Perhaps the situation wasn't so far gone as he feared.

* * *

Nightfall.

Itching to get out of the lair, Raphael paced back and forth in front of the main entrance, waiting for Leonardo. Somewhere out there a guy by the name of Roman was in sore need of a beat down. Normally, Raph wouldn't want company on a run like this. He wasn't defending a victim but punishing a wrong and that fell into the Non-Splinter approved use of their talents; revenge. He didn't expect Leo to understand.

But tonight he wouldn't leave without his brother because after the fun came a more serious mission and Leo was the one with the 'right of invitation'.

This afternoon, he was told of Splinter's decision to bring Morgan to their home, at least for the time being. Raph wasn't sure how he felt about it. One part of him rejoiced. Down here he could certainly keep her safe, and it would give them a chance to talk, but...

For the last six years, she lived a life of virtual confinement. Charlie kept her captive, a prisoner. Could Raph sentence her to more of the same, only underground? A place with no windows, no life, no open air?

Even if it wasn't for long, he didn't think she could stand it.

He wasn't sure he could handle having her close to him all the time either. He wanted to be with her almost more than he could stand, yet she still had no idea he was other than human and he wasn't too keen on rushing the revelation.

Why the sudden concern from their father? Did he sense Raph's feelings for her? Was there some other reason? Something his family was keeping from him? He wanted to ask, but Splinter spent the rest of the afternoon in deep meditation. Something had profoundly disturbed him, but Raph couldn't fathom what.

Instead he paced, antsy and waiting, glad of the interruption when Donatello wandered over and handed him a tablet. He glanced down, thinking Don was gracing them with an address for Roman and his breath caught. It was the camera feed from Morgan's building.

After last night, he admitted he'd put her apartment under surveillance and ever since the genius had been reviewing the footage. What Donnie handed him now though was live. The view from the scaffolding across from her window.

Raphael instantly stilled, his body relaxing the moment he laid eyes on her.

Morgan stood facing the street, dressed in a running suit of soft fleece. Black pants hugged her curves and she wore a red camisole under a matching black velvet hoodie. Her dark, curly hair was wet and she rubbed it dry with a towel before producing a brush to pull through it.

Raph was hypnotized by the movement, lost in the imagined moment of what it would feel like if it were his hand instead, gliding through her silky curls.

Every once in a while she paused and raised a palm to the glass, her brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment she dropped it again.

"Right there. What is she doing?" Don asked pointing to her movement, and Raph started. He'd lost himself in his thoughts and forgot his brother was there. "She's done it four times in the last hour."

"She's... waiting for me," Raph whispered in wonder, still staring at the beautiful young woman.

Don raised a brow, but didn't comment on the revelation, bending to peer at the screen. "She's certainly good with makeup," he remarked. "I can't make out a single bruise on her. Not that I'm surprised, she did have to answer to the FBI today."

Raph frowned. It didn't make sense. Her hair was still wet, she just showered. Why would she be wearing any cover up?

April joined her at the window gazing out into the dark street. She laid a hand on Morgan's shoulder and lead her back inside. Raph sighed as Morgan left camera range, but at least April was with her. He'd be there soon.

Leo appeared behind them.

"Ready?" he asked, layers of emotion in his voice.

Raph looked, really looked, at his older brother for the first time all day and what he saw made him pause. Leo's face was fierce. Violence shadowed his eyes and his gaze was steely.

"Ok Leo, spill," Raph said, "Suppressed anger is my thing. What aren't you telling me?"

Leo exchanged a loaded glance with Don. Donnie shook his head almost imperceptibly. Raph couldn't handle the link between Morgan and Shredder. Or the knowledge of the torture she'd endured. Not now. Leo sighed. He hated keeping things from his brother.

"April sent over some more details about this guy," Leo said instead, looking away from Raph and clenching his jaw. "Roman tried to pick the girl up at the Vallen party and has harassed her at work every single day since.

Now let's go teach this bastard that when a lady says no, it means no."

His words had the desired effect. Raphael's anger reawakened and he ceased asking awkward questions. The two jogged out the entrance to the tunnels and disappeared into the darkness to dispense some justice.

* * *

Donnie made quick work of finding the guy. Apparently, Roman lived way out in the boroughs, farther than the brothers normally ventured, but in this instance they were making an exception. Getting out of the city wasn't a problem. The Battle Shell would pass muster as a delivery vehicle in the dark, keeping them inconspicuous.

As they drew further from Manhattan proper and closer to Roman's neighborhood, the houses got smaller, seedier, and more run down. To remain out of sight, they parked the truck several blocks away and faded into the shadows.

Raphael sidled up to the skinny single window at the front of the house and held his breath to keep from gagging at the stench. Little more than a metal walled shack occupied the thin postage stamp sized yard, but the land itself was filled with garbage, old tires, and the scent of rotting food. It smelled worse than the sewers and it seemed like the inhabitants didn't believe in cleaning anything, ever. They just pitched the trash out in the yard.

Raphael had a short fuse, but his temper had cooled somewhat on the long drive out. However, all it took was one glance through the glowing rectangle to push him from simply angry back into full blown rage.

Photographs of Morgan quite literally papered the walls of this dump; images of her at work and at a nearby coffee shop in various day to day outfits, pictures of her in the stunning black dress Raphael saw at Christmas, and snapshots of her in a pretty green cocktail gown, drinking and laughing with a few friends.

 _What does this freakazoid think he's doing with all these?_

Raph's eyes zeroed in on the picture of the sparkling outfit. It was covered in sequins. Sequins which matched the ones Donatello was still picking out of the crevices of the Battle Shell since he patched her up in the back.

A man lounged on the battered, moth-eaten sofa in the middle of the room, staring at the wall. Specifically, the last photo. One hand held a scrap of green fabric to his face and he breathed in its scent with obvious ecstasy. His other hand was shoved down his pants.

"Oh, Emma, mmmm just like that..." Roman moaned his fantasy aloud. "Show these girls how it's done!"

Raphael's amber eyes ignited in fury. The window was too small for him to fit through, so with a bone-chilling roar, he dashed for the front door. There was a resounding crash as the glass broke behind him as a smoke bomb detonated in the small ramshackle shed.

Raph threw a kick at the door with his entire weight behind it and crashed through, grabbing up the small man by the windpipe and pinning him to the wall, feet dangling.

Somewhere outside, Leo cut the power.

In the dark and smoke, there was no way for Roman to see who held him, but he could tell they were large, dangerous, and angry. He struggled ineffectively against the huge hand cutting off the air to his lungs but stopped and fell limp in fear as Raph's massive fist crashed into the wall next to his head. It splintered the cheap laminate covering into thousands of jagged pieces.

The strong scent of ammonia filled the room as Roman lost control of his bladder and pissed his pants.

Raph drew back in disgust and drop kicked the guy across the room. He flew through the air overturning a chair in his path before smashing bodily into the small kitchen table and crashing to the floor.

Before Raph made another move, Leonardo appeared. He hauled the man upright and smashed him flat on his back against the table. Before Roman could blink, a three foot long, incredibly sharp blade rested against his throat, flashing threateningly.

"You," Leo said in a calm, deadly voice, "have a very unfortunate fixation on someone we care about."

Roman's eyes were large as saucers and flicked side to side, trying to make out something, anything, from the shadows and smoke beyond the terrifying blade at his neck.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about," he stuttered.

Leo snorted as Raphael growled low in his chest. It sounded like a panther, huffing and ready to strike. Roman began to shake in earnest.

Leo drew closer, putting his mouth right next to the coward's ear, his eyes gleaming and narrowed in the darkness.

"Emma," Leo breathed, "is not for you. She is an incredibly precious creature who deserves so much more than to be the mindless fantasy of a spineless worm like yourself."

Roman regained some of his backbone at this, despite the katana at his neck.

"That blind bitch sent me to the ER last night and made me miss work today. She owes me! And if I ever catch her alone-"

Roman screamed as a flick of Leo's wrist sent the sword gliding down his arm, removing the top layer of skin from shoulder to elbow with precise skill. It was painful, and blood oozed to the surface, but the man would live and keep the use of his appendage.

"You will burn her image from your mind," Leo said with such intensity even Raphael stepped back. "You will forget her name. You will leave your job and you will never lay eyes on her again or I will be back.

And I will not be satisfied until I have skinned you alive."

He turned his sword sharply and knocked Roman out with the handle of his blade. He dragged the unconscious man from the table by the collar of his shirt and threw him unceremoniously out the door with the rest of the garbage, leaving a stunned Raphael standing in the middle of the destroyed shack.

Leo glanced back as he exited and slid his katana home in its sheath, his eyes flicking over the photos behind Raph. Through gritted teeth, he ordered:

"Burn this place to the ground."

* * *

Leonardo managed to compartmentalize his anger and re-apply his calm expression by the time they returned to the city. Being able to do _something_ for the poor girl he was about to take into his care made him a little calmer, but it didn't shake the rage completely.

It didn't help that Raph sat silently in the passenger seat, shooting him frequent glances; suspicious and jealous by turns. Leo sighed, unsure how to set his brother's mind at ease. After that show of temper, Raph probably thought he had feelings for the girl too.

He did, but not in the way Raphael imagined.

Leo hadn't intended to eavesdrop on April and Donnie's conversation the night before, but his phone and Don's remained in conference mode from the New Year's patrol and, when April called, it automatically looped him in. He listened, too shocked to speak as she explained Raph's attachment to the girl.

At first he thought she must be mistaken. Raph? In love? Ridiculous.

But the more he considered Raphael's behavior since the night they rescued Morgan the more sense it made. The many angry, even frantic, evening patrols, the equipment he borrowed, and the growing desperation Leo had seen in his brother's eyes night after night.

When Donatello pulled him into the lab and showed him the file on Morgan Jennings, he was almost physically ill. Leo wasn't naive about the world, or the ways of the Shredder. He understood life and knew, all too well, the horrible things human beings did to one another.

But the thought that this _particular_ girl had suffered so much, and was still in danger from their arch enemy, infuriated him. Unlike the general population, this quiet brunette had done something Leonardo considered absolutely impossible; broken through the impenetrable wall his brother built around his heart.

He wasn't sure what it was about Morgan that captured his brother's affection, but he really didn't care. The fact Raph found someone to love was amazing and Leo wanted nothing more than for this girl return his feelings. If she was as smart as she seemed, she would be able to get past his mutation and anger issues to appreciate his finer qualities. She had to.

Raph deserved this chance at happiness.

Leo felt better after Master Splinter's decision to bring Morgan to the lair. There was no way the Foot would stumble over her here, and it would give them all an opportunity to get to know one another. For if matters proceeded as Leo hoped, Morgan might eventually become a member of the family.

Having determined this, the details April texted over regarding Roman's actions enraged him to abnormal extremes. This despicable little weasel of a man thought he could get away with assaulting Morgan, in public no less. He thought no one would believe or avenge her.

He was wrong. Leo believed her, even before Don offered the blood and DNA evidence.

When they arrived at the disgusting shack and saw how obsessed the man truly was, only years of discipline kept Leo from rushing in and killing him straight out. Raphael's pain filled roar as he charged the door brought Leo out of his own haze of rage and he acted as quickly as possible to protect their identities and maintain control of the situation.

Raph had more free rein than Leo would have liked in chastising Roman, but after he drop-kicked the guy across the room, Leo made his move and said rather more than he intended.

Now his brother was looking at him like he'd been betrayed; stabbed in the back. Great. How was he going to fix this when he wasn't supposed to know about Raph's feelings?

"How long?"

Raphael demanded into the uncomfortable silence which had consumed them since they peeled out from the front of Roman's ash covered plot of land, leaving the bastard tied up in the dirt.

Leonardo blinked, startled out of his thoughts. "How long what?"

"How long have you wanted Morgan? She ain't datin' ya. I've been there every night, watched her leave for work every day. I never saw you."

"You're right, Raph, we are certainly _not_ dating. She doesn't even know I exist."

"That why you're coming along? You want an introduction? Cause April and I sure don't need your help bringing' her in."

"No, I'm here because one of us had to keep our heads back there and watch out for the Foot tonight. It isn't going to be you once you lay eyes on her."

"Uh-huh. Leo, you gave that guy such a close shave it's gonna take a month to grow back! And I ain't never heard you refer to a civie as an 'incredibly precious creature' before. That don't sound like someone keepin' his head. It sounds like one talkin' with his heart. You want her!"

"I don't want _anything_ from Morgan except her consent to allow us to protect her as best we can. Including permitting us move her to the lair! Really Raph, you're letting your own feelings cloud your judgment here."

"You don't know nothin about what I'm feeling!"

"I know you kept her location from us! You've been staking out her place for weeks, keeping her under constant guard and freaking out when she gets hurt. It's enough to make me wonder, Raph."

"Wonder what, Fearless?"

Leo dismissed the snide title. His brother was hurting.

"If you even realize you're in love with her."


	11. Offer she can't refuse

**Offer she can't refuse**

Eleven thirty.

Morgan stood at her window for probably the fortieth time that evening and held a hand up to the glass, but she couldn't sense him. Her heart sank. Her guardian hadn't appeared tonight. She wondered if it was because of April. Did he not feel the need to check on her because she was already under watchful eyes? Or did the FBI keep him away?

Strange how she missed his presence. Until today, she hadn't even known his name, but his aura had been a reassuring constant these past few weeks and she could use a little comforting tonight. It had been a grueling day and she was still shaken from the double assault of the evening before.

 _God, how could I have been so stupid? Roman wasn't a huge threat. If I hadn't run like a scared little girl I wouldn't have ended up in the alleyway being kidnaped._ She shuddered at the thought.

To compound the stress, Martin brought her in today for debriefing, a lecture about keeping her phone handy, and a scolding for not checking in. He also gave her the third degree over 'Amanda Nelson.' Luckily, April's alias checked out so she didn't have to explain why her house guest lied to him.

Of course, Morgan lied to him as well if only by omission. She couldn't tell Martin about either attack unless she wanted to be removed from her current domicile. If she moved now, Raphael might never find her again.

For some reason, the thought made her panic. Her throat closed and her chest felt tight when she considered it. April was still in the apartment when Morgan got home and she was grateful beyond words for her constant support. If she had been forced to spend the day alone she would have lost her composure for sure, and spent the whole day crying.

She sighed and wandered over to the loveseat, scrunching herself into the padded corner between the backrest and arm. She felt tired and exposed. More than anything she longed to feel safe again but that emotion was long gone. So she pulled her legs up, curling into herself and leaned her chin on her knees.

To distract herself, she pondered what to do with tomorrow as she listened to April putter around in the little kitchen area making tea. Should she go to work? She couldn't call out sick forever, but she might be able to stretch it out a few more days. She wasn't sure she could face being in the same room or even the same building as a man who tried to sexually assault her.

Maybe she could tell human resources. They could force him out without her having to get the FBI involved, but the complaint would start an inquiry which lead to paperwork and legal charges. Martin would find out about it. Or worse yet, the documents might become public where Charlie could locate them. If she quit her job, her agent would want to know why.

She ran a hand through her hair, smoothing all the strands together. A nervous tick she'd picked up while under Charlie's thumb. He hated it if she didn't look presentable at all times. For a while she'd rebelled, refusing to dress or act the way he wanted, but eventually it didn't seem worth the pain he doled out, so she got in the habit of keeping herself neat.

Thinking of Charlie made her scalp prickle and sent a shot of fear into her gut. It reminded her of the alley last night and those deadly quiet men. Who were they? The goon who spoke to her was a common enough thug. Charlie employed a lot of the type, but the others... Could they have been part of the more elusive, secret organization? Had she barely escaped becoming a captive of the Foot Clan? Her mouth went dry.

"April," she said, but her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again.

"April, when we met Raphael in the Vallen building- he mentioned something called the Foot. Can you tell me about them?"

April started and she examined Morgan in surprise at the direct question. Most of the day had been spent avoiding the topic of the attacks and now she wanted to know about Vallen? Did she think they were related?

"Uh, well..." April wasn't sure what she should say. Morgan frowned when she didn't finish and April sighed. The girl needed to be warned about the Foot, but now might not be the best time. Her cell phone chose that moment to ring.

 _Talk about saved by the bell._ April thought.

"Hang on a sec, Morgan, I have to take this... Hello?"

"The co-worker has been neutralized," Leonardo said without preamble though he still sounded angry. "Are you with Morgan?"

"Yes." April said. She shot Morgan a strained glance and lowered her voice. "What did you want me to do tonight? You need me to stay over?"

"Actually, how do you think she'd react to a little company? Master Splinter asked us to bring her in. He wants to offer her shelter for the time being."

"But Leo, she doesn't know! And what about the FBI?"

"Let us worry about them."

"Um, How much should I..."

"We'll explain when we get there. See if you can get her to pack a bag. We'll meet you on the roof in 20."

April hung up and stood silently for a moment, trying to decide what to say to the still traumatized young woman in front of her. She couldn't blurt out her friends wanted to take Morgan underground for her own good. That would terrify her. Ok. Start slow.

"Morgan, how would you feel about some company?"

The girl's head snapped up, but she shrank further into herself. "What don't I know?"

April sighed again, obviously Morgan had been listening.

"Raphael is coming over."

"He doesn't call, he just shows up. So. What don't I know?" Morgan was not going to be sidetracked.

"Raph... he's a loner," April said with a note of caution in her voice.

"I kinda got that impression."

"But he doesn't usually work alone."

Silence met her statement. Morgan cocked her head, waiting for April to continue.

"The job he does is... sort of a family business, headed by his brother, Leonardo."

Morgan blinked. "Well somebody had a crush on Renaissance artists," she said with a wry smile.

April laughed, glad to see she held on to her sense of humor. "Their father. He wanted to give them something to strive for. Anyway, Leo is the one who called. He'd like to... meet you. He has some questions, and-"

"What kind of work?"

"Well, uh, they... sort of watch over people."

"Oh. Like security or bodyguards?"

"Not exactly. Most times the people they're helping don't know they're there."

"Like the way Raphael watched over me?"

"A little. Usually they sorta swoop in, save the day and take off again before they're spotted."

April grimaced, not liking the way her explanation sounded, but she was trying to coach their behavior in very general terms so Morgan wouldn't over react.

"So not like what Raphael is doing."

There was a long silence as Morgan mulled this information over. Raphael shadowed her relentlessly for weeks. If this wasn't how they normally operated... What did it mean? Did he have another reason for his actions? And how had she stumbled upon a whole family of vigilantes?

Another thought occurred to her and she blurted it out before thinking.

"Is Raphael in trouble for what he did? I mean, was he supposed to be guarding someone else? Because I needed him and I'm not afraid of telling this... Leonardo so."

She waved a hand emphatically.

April blinked at her, flabbergasted. Morgan didn't know either of them, but she was willing to stand up for Raph if she thought he needed it. April wasn't sure if he would be flattered by the thought or annoyed because she assumed he couldn't handle himself with his brother. Probably the latter.

"Um, no. If he's in trouble with anyone, it's me, cause I've been searching for you since you left my apartment and he's been holding out on me."

Morgan smiled at the fierce little growl April made. Like the fury of a kitten, it was all cuteness and no real bite. Her smile faded.

"Do you trust him?"

"Raph?"

"No. Leonardo."

"With my life," April said. "We've been friends for a long time and they've pulled me out of quite a few tough scrapes."

"What does he want?" Morgan's voice shook.

Things seemed to be spiralling out of her control again and she didn't like the feeling. April wanted her to trust a man she didn't know with her secret. Her breathing sped and her heart began to flutter.

April saw her distress and she crossed the space to sit next to her on the loveseat, taking her hand. "Morgan, Leonardo is not a threat. He follows a strict code of conduct and he will not expose you or harm you in any way."

"Martin has the building under surveillance. How am I supposed to explain these sudden visitors?" she protested, but it was a weak argument and she knew it.

April chuckled. "Believe me, Martin will never see them."

Morgan furrowed her brow as she tried to figure out how they would accomplish such a daring feat.

"What are they? Some sort of special forces or something?"

"Or something..."

* * *

Twenty minutes later Morgan stood on the roof next to April in the shadow of the stairwell door. It felt weird to be up here with someone when she was used to this being her private escape, but she had to admit it was better than all four of them trying to cram into her tiny apartment.

The fierce January wind bit deeply into her despite the heavy woolen coat and red scarf she threw on over her running suit. Even her soft hat, padded with all her hair was not enough to keep out the chill.

She shuddered and pushed her hands deeper into her pockets as she waited, forming them into fists in her agitation. Why had she let April talk her into this? She began to pace, trying to keep the blood circulating in her extremities as she thought. April wasn't convincing, she finally realized. The truth was, she wanted to meet Raphael face to face.

But a sense of foreboding fell over her as she remember the way her body reacted to his presence. She couldn't trust herself around him. She should leave now, before they showed up. April could tell them she changed her mind.

It was too late. Someone was coming.

She flinched right before there was a light thud from the ledge to her left and she spun to face it with a cry. Raphael was easy to recognize, his aura familiar after so many weeks. She started to relax but a second later another person dropped into the space beside him.

Morgan jumped and stepped back, realizing the moment he appeared she'd 'met' this person once before in the hall of the Vallen Building. She moved back again as the new arrival, who had to be Leonardo, began walking briskly toward her. She misjudged her footing and slipped, falling on a patch of ice.

Unreasoning panic seized her at his approach and she shrank away as April tried to help her up, scrambling toward the stairwell door.

Raph immediately grabbed Leo's arm forcing him to stop, ignoring the irritated glare it garnered him.

"It's okay, Morgan," he called. "We'll stay over here. Please don't go."

She stilled at the sound of his voice and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran down her spine. April reached out and offered her hand again. This time, Morgan pulled herself up, a sheepish expression on her face.

"Sorry," she mumbled to her feet.

"Don't worry, Miss Jennings," a new voice said. "We get that reaction a lot."

"You always sneak up on people hiding from dangerous criminals and stalk threateningly across empty rooftops toward them late at night?" she asked with sarcasm.

Leo gave her a confused look before realizing her response wasn't because of their appearance. She couldn't see them and she had every right to be jumpy. Raph gave him a glare, driving the guilt home, and turned back to Morgan, trying to put her more at ease.

"It comes with the territory," he said with a smirk she could almost feel. Morgan smiled slightly at his attempted joke, just a quick quirk of her lips, but suddenly Raph thought this might go better than he feared.

"Guys, this is Morgan Jennings," April said trying to prevent more awkwardness. "Morgan these are my friends, Leonardo and Raphael."

Leo took a step forward and Morgan flinched but held her ground.

"Miss Jennings, it is a pleasure to meet you," Leo said. "Before we begin, I want reassure you. We came across you entirely by accident. We were not intentionally seeking you, nor are we interested in exposing you to those you are hiding from."

"Thank you," Morgan said. It didn't allay her concerns, but it was nice of him to say it. Unfortunately, his next sentence erased that good will.

"But our paths have crossed several times now, so in the interests of safety I had my team investigate. There are a lot of people looking for you and you are in a great deal of danger"

Morgan gasped.

"You knew?" She threw this question at Raphael, her face pinched with an odd mix of shame, fear, anger, and something a little like betrayal. "About me? About Charlie? "

She began to shake where she stood, mortified. It was bad enough Raphael had been forced to 'save' her twice. If he knew the things Charlie did to her, the terrible things she endured, he wouldn't be at all interested in sticking around.

She wasn't sure why she wanted him too, but she did. The thought of trying to make it through another week without him was terrifying. Especially if she had to return to work and face Roman.

"No!" Raph said, throwing another deadly glare at Leo for upsetting her. "Until last night, we had nothing. What my brother is trying to say, badly, is since you've been attacked so much, I - we - were worried. So when you gave me your real name and little history, we dug up some background to help us put your enemies in perspective."

April stared at them, slightly stunned by the role reversal. Raph was never this eloquent and Leo wasn't usually so blunt.

"We learned some things you may not be aware of. Things which are increasing the danger of your situation," Leo added. This time he kept his voice smooth and gentle, hoping to assuage some of her fears.

"Charlie has called in the Foot?" Morgan guessed, suppressing another surge of panic.

"Not exactly, but... what do you know about them, Miss Jennings?"

She shook her head. "Not much. Charlie... he bragged about them. Said they were some kind of private army he could call on at will. Once he claimed they were all assassins and he liked to threaten people with them."

The way she said this last made it clear she had been one of those people. Raph clenched his fists in response. Leo nodded- but realized he'd have to make some other kind of reply.

"I don't wish to scare you, Miss Jennings, but your summary is pretty close to the truth. The Foot Clan are a group of elite warriors, who emigrated to the U.S. from Japan many years ago. They can be dangerous foes though only a few are actual assassins."

"Not makin' her feel any better here, Leo," Raph growled under his breath.

He was still steamed from their little chat on the way back. A conversation they had not finished as far as Raph was concerned. He wasn't convinced Leo didn't have designs on Morgan. Leo knew Raph shied away from discussing his emotions, and all that talk of love could be a smokescreen to divert his attention.

"Those men in the alley last night, they were the Foot?" Morgan asked in a soft frightened voice.

"Yes, Miss Jennings, but we believe they were not specifically looking for you. It was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

She laughed, a little hysterical and clapped a hand over her mouth. She turned to Raphael. "And you beat five of them."

"They ain't too tough," he said, a little flushed at the tone of admiration in her voice.

"If you think they weren't hunting for me, why call this little after hours meeting?" she asked.

Leo gazed at her appreciatively. Even under stress and fear, she was sharp. She picked up on the important things right away, even the ones he didn't say. But he would need to tread carefully or risk sending the girl into another of her fits.

"Because even without the Foot being involved yet, you are in serious danger, Miss Jennings. More than the FBI can protect you from."

"Yet?" Morgan squeaked, her throat closing again.

She caught the word right away and Leo cursed himself for his slip of the tongue.

"There is little of a criminal nature that goes on in this city the leader of the Foot Clan does not know about. Sooner or later they will get involved."

"Again, not helping," Raph said, stepping forward to elbow Leo.

He turned toward the petite brunette, who was practically vibrating with tension, and took a few more steps. This time when she swayed and looked ready to run, it wasn't away from him.

"Morgan, I ain't gonna let anything happen to you, okay?" Raph said, keeping his voice soft. He wanted to reach out to her, but forced himself to keep his hands at his sides.

Leo sighed and rubbed a hand over his forehead. This was not going the way he expected it to.

"Raphael has been doing his best," Leo said, "but he can't do everything alone. I think it would be prudent to make this a team effort and move you to a safer environment, Miss Jennings."

Morgan wrapped her arms rigidly across her chest to stop her shivering and forced herself to find her voice.

"Thank you for the offer," she said. "I know you are some sort of elite specialists, probably the best defense I could have, but I can't afford to hire you."

Leo stepped back, surprised. "We don't want your money."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing," Leo said, a little lost. "We simply wish to protect you."

"Why? I'm nobody."

Leo was stumped. What could he say that wouldn't either scare the girl to death or out his brother's feelings?

"You are not!" April interrupted. "You're my friend, and we help our friends around here."

Morgan forced a smile she didn't feel and shook her head. "The FBI has a pretty good handle on the situation."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have been attacked twice last night!" Raph snapped. "And if I hadn't come along..."

He couldn't even finish.

 _The Foot would have made her vanish and I would never have known what happened to her._

The idea made him furious.

Leo glanced at his brother's angry shuddering form and decided it was time to up the stakes.

"Charles Hargrove landed at Laguardia airport at 9 PM tonight," Leo said, watching for the girl's face for a reaction.

She went rigid. Her eyes wide with fear.

"No," she whispered. "He hates the city. He wouldn't come here."

 _Unless he somehow knew where you were hiding,_ a little voice in her mind said.

"I've got to get out of here!" Morgan said, full blown panic setting in. She ran to the stairwell door. "I have to call Martin." Then she spun back around and took a few steps away again, confused; wringing her hands. "I don't want to leave! I'm so tired of running."

She bit her lip. She hadn't meant to say that.

"We can get you off the grid," Raph said to reassure her, "tonight."

"You don't have to leave the city, Miss Jennings. We can keep you out of sight until he leaves and evaluate the situation as it develops," Leo said.

"Let us help you, Morgan," April pleaded.

Morgan didn't know what to think. Her mind ran in frightened little circles like a hamster in a wheel, moving frantically but not making any progress. Charlie was here. It was no longer a possibility, he was actually here. And he had all kinds of underground connections. He could hire those Purple Dragons from Vallen to search for her, or even the Foot.

"I can't ever get away. He's going to find me..."

Morgan whispered her realization as tears began to gather in her eyes. She tried to hold them off, not wanting to cry in front of these men though it was a little late to worry about it with Raphael since last night was one big mess of hysteria.

"Over my dead body," Raph growled. He strode forward until he stood right beside her, his anger devastatingly fierce, yet protective. "That bastard ain't gonna touch ya. Not ever again."

His unique scent surrounded and overwhelmed her.

Before she could think better of it, she turned to him for comfort, burying her face in the chest of his puffy jacket and clutching his overcoat with both hands. He wore something hard underneath, probably a bulletproof vest she thought in bemusement, but it didn't matter. He wrapped strong arms around her and held her tight.

The contrast in their heights was immediately apparent. He was over six foot to her petite 5' 1" and he had to crouch slightly to hold her. His arms were massive, enveloping her completely, and for the first time in years she felt a sense of security.

Despite the unfamiliar feeling, she couldn't focus her thoughts, couldn't pull herself together. She simply clung to him, the tears she tried so hard to stifle running silently down her cheeks and soaking into his clothes.

He murmured something soft and low, swaying back and forth with her gently, but she was too upset to understand what he said. April and Leo exchanged a weighted glance as Raph held on to the girl as if he would never let go.

"Morgan," Raph said in a hoarse whisper, "come with me. I swear, on my honor, I won't let anything happen to you."

She cried for a long moment more, she didn't want to let go but eventually she pushed him away and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Maybe just for a little while."


	12. Acceptance

Underground. That was how they planned to keep her hidden. Morgan wasn't sure she would have agreed if she'd known, but now it was too late. They were here, buried beneath the behemoth that was the city.

To throw off the FBI, April led her across town to the apartment tower where her alias Amanda Nelson supposedly resided and Morgan left a message with Martin about staying there a few days. Hopefully, there wouldn't be an outcry when she disappeared.

It was past one AM when they hustled across the lobby to the elevator, but this late at night, not too many people hung around. April hit the button for B2 and they dropped quickly to the sub-basement.

"I hope you're not claustrophobic," she said. "It gets a little tunnel like from here."

Morgan shook her head. Too tired and fearful to care. Charlie was out there somewhere, probably searching for her right now. Raphael took another route and she felt dangerously exposed with only April for company.

She paid more attention as her guide began to lead her through a series of doors and tunnels. At one point, she heard the subway rattle along on the other side of the wall. They entered a concrete utility tunnel, went down several flights of stairs and through a connecting door into an old aqueduct.

April clicked on a flashlight as she shut the door firmly behind them.

"I guess the darkness down here doesn't bother you," April said.

"Natural immunity," Morgan quipped.

If she hadn't possessed an eidetic memory, this trip would still have confused and scared her. As it was, she was pretty sure she could get back to the building they started from if she needed too. The aqueduct distracted her, however. It smelled of mildew and green growing things.

"How do you know your way around so well?" Morgan asked, sneezing and hoping they wouldn't be long on this section of the journey.

"I've been friends with the guys for years. There are a lot of ways to get to their safe-house, but this one is the least... yucky."

Somewhat further, they came to a metal runged ladder which smelled sharply of rust and descended yet another two stories. Down they went, until Morgan became certain they were actually searching for the center of the Earth. She said as much to April, who laughed.

"We're almost there. We need to take a short trip through the sewers though so you might want to hold your nose."

Morgan made a disgusted face.

"The sewers?"

April noticed the expression. She laughed again.

"Don't worry, it's less than five minutes, and there are walkways so we won't get our shoes dirty."

Morgan sighed and waved her on.

The air in the sewers smelled rank and stifling. She tried to hold her breath and Morgan felt a bit dizzy as she stumbled along behind a confidently striding April. Even breathing through her mouth was bad. She could taste the silt.

Eventually, they stopped. A grating noise of brick passing over other brick announced some sort of concealed door opening and fresh smelling breeze passed over them, drawing away the stink of the tunnels.

They stepped in and the sound reverberated again behind them as it closed.

"Guys? We're here!" April called. The sound echoed a little through the underground space.

"APRIL!"

A loud shout made Morgan start and fall back as a presence she didn't know ran at them and scooped April up from beside her. April gave a little squeal as he spun her around.

"Mikey! You're squeezing too tight! Geez, It's not like I've been gone forever," April said.

Another person Morgan didn't know appeared, this one slightly calmer.

"Hey April," he said. "Glad to see you still remember the route. I thought we might have to send out a search party if it took much longer."

"Donnie," April teased, "You know I had a newbie in tow. It always takes longer when you avoid the stink you guys so recklessly embrace."

Don made a face before he smiled and hugged her as Mikey let go. He turned expectantly to Morgan and April made the formal introductions.

"Guys this is Morgan Jennings," she said. "Morgan these two are the other half of the team. Donatello and Michelangelo."

Morgan smiled hesitantly.

"So, you're all, brothers?" she guessed.

"And I am their Father."

Morgan jumped again. She had not heard or even sensed a third presence in the room.

"Where are you?" she asked, startled into speaking.

No one had hidden this successfully from her before. An aura slowly appeared nearby, unveiling itself bit by bit in front of her. Whoever this was had mastered the art of invisibility, even to her. She only 'saw' him now because he allowed it.

"I am here, Miss Jennings," a gruff but patient voice replied.

"Morgan, This is Master Splinter," April said. "He taught the guys everything they know, except Donnie- he's a certified genius and mostly taught himself."

"April," Mikey said, "he's already too big for his bandanna. Don't give him a swelled head with a compliment."

Morgan stifled a laugh and stretched out a hand towards their 'master'.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Morgan felt a tense shift in the air. A door opened somewhere to her right. Leonardo and Raphael walked in. She felt Raphael's eyes lock onto her and in an instant her face heated with a flush, but she kept her hand outstretched toward their father.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well," Splinter said and with deliberation placed his hand in her own.

She shook it, feeling the firmness of his grip and noting the thin palm and long, long fingers. Fingers with sharp, pointed little nails at the end. The back of his hand was smooth and there were bandages wrapped loosely around it. Aside from the bandages, there was something familiar about his hand though she knew she had never met him before.

Splinter watched her face carefully. She seemed confused, but not upset or horrified at his paw. His gaze fell to the pendant around her neck. A small bronze turtle winked at him in the light of the lair, its ruby eyes flashing.

"You like turtles, Miss Jennings?" he asked.

"Love them," she said, "They stand for so many good things in ancient cultures."

She gripped the necklace tight in her hand. "This was the last thing my birth mother gave me before the adoption, so turtles have a special place in my heart."

She smiled at him and the gesture lit up her face. Perhaps, Splinter thought her lack of sight was a blessing. Regardless, he felt she must know all before she agreed to stay with them.

"Let us sit," the master said. "There is much to discuss."

As their kindly father turned away, Morgan felt a little lost. She didn't know what she was doing here. Could they keep her safe? At least this place was hard to find, she thought.

Raphael crept up quietly beside her and abruptly she felt a little less alone.

He walked her across an open space to a couch, directing her with a light grip on her elbow and seated her at one end. April sat next to her and Raphael moved away to sit at right angles to her.

This must be a living room she thought briefly before their 'master' launched into an unbelievable tale she could hardly credit. A story of turtles, rats, mutants, ooze and a clan of martial artists from ancient Japan. If it were true, it would explain their underground living conditions.

Her mouth dropped open as his narrative came to a close, detailing their last battle with the Shredder, and she quickly shut it.

"I'm sorry… Splinter. I mean no offense, but this is quite a tale to swallow," she said.

"Come to me child, and place your hands upon me. You must understand, I speak only the truth," Splinter said.

She hesitated and Mikey piped up from her left.

"He may be a rat, but he won't bite."

She flashed him a smile.

"Actually, most rats won't if you approach them with respect," she said. "I kept them for years as a girl. They're smart and they make excellent companions."

"You hear that dudes? She likes turtles and rats. We are so in!" Mikey said as she stood and made her way cautiously to Splinter's side.

She reached out a trembling hand to touch his face and met soft fur, a long nose, and sensitive whiskers. Gently she stroked upwards to the ears on his head and down his cheek to his shoulder. She smiled as she removed her hand.

"You're just as soft as they were," she murmured to his delight. He laughed a deep happy sound.

"This is the best response we've ever had from a human," Donatello remarked. "We should make friends with more blind people."

Everyone laughed except Raphael. The area to her right remained profoundly quiet and she wondered why.

"Raphael," Splinter addressed his son, "Please see to it Miss Jennings finds a proper space to rest in. It is late and she is tired. I believe the meditation room will serve for now.

Miss Jennings, I'll bid you good night. We will speak more tomorrow."

The room Raphael lead her to was small, a mere eight feet by eight feet, but it was the cozy kind of tiny. On her right as they entered, a four foot by eight foot platform rose about eight inches off the floor. A knee high table occupied the rear of the room, surrounded by throw cushions and the scent of incense lingered in the air.

She turned a full circle sensing the volume of the room, until she stood facing the door, a simple rice paper shoji screen which slid to the side. It wouldn't block sound, but it gave some sense of privacy.

She removed her coat, hat, and scarf folding them carefully before setting them in an out of the way corner. Behind her Raphael carried in a futon mattress and busied himself, rolling it out on the platform. He left momentarily and returned with sheets, blankets and a pillow. When he finished the room boasted a comfortable twin sized bed.

During this whole procedure, he kept a watchful eye on her and some distance between them, always backing off when she moved anywhere in his general direction. After their father's revelations, Morgan couldn't say she was surprised. If she hadn't felt so safe with him the knowledge might have caused her to flee. Instead, it simply made her curious.

Lost in her thoughts, considering their story, she continued her automatic movements. She stripped off her hoodie and reached under her camisole to remove her bra, preparing for bed. She unhooked it and pulled the straps from her arms, before grasping it from the bottom with one hand and pulling it out. Everything important remained covered by her shirt, and she didn't think anything of it until she heard him clear his throat roughly.

He stood by the door, and she could feel his gaze on her, protective still, but somehow helpless as well. As he lingered, the magnetic scent he gave off wafted in to fill the room, and Morgan felt her blood begin to heat. Knowing he was not human hadn't changed her body's reaction to him in the slightest.

She bit her lip and made a decision. She wanted to know what he was. Being told he was a humanoid turtle was one thing, but she needed to know what he felt like. She moved to sit on the bed as he turned to leave.

"Raphael, wait," she called. "Could- could you stay for few minutes? I- Tonight has been a lot to take in and, I'd like some company."

He stilled at the sound of her voice, already halfway out the door. He stared over his shoulder at the beautiful girl sitting on the futon, surprised she wanted anything to do with him now she knew his nature. She faced him and her expression was intense. He couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"I can go get April, if ya want," he offered an alternative.

"No, I'd rather it was you."

His brow ridges shot up in surprise. She wanted it to be him? Confused, but willing, he stepped back in and slid the door shut. He grabbed a cushion and retreated to kneel at the back of the room, as far from her as the space allowed. He refused to crowd her. Certain she needed distance after the night's revelations.

Her head turned, tracking his movements. She was tired. Fear and exhaustion were competing to see which would overwhelm her first, but with him in the room her heartbeat calmed. Exhaustion may win, but she had some things she wanted to ask before she collapsed.

"Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?" she asked.

"No, why would you say that?"

"Well, earlier tonight you let me blubber all over you, but since we got here you've been quiet and keeping your distance."

She spoke softly and he examined her face minutely, looking for some sort of clue to her mood. She didn't seem uncomfortable at all, being alone in a room with him, a nonhuman. He didn't get it. Why wasn't she afraid or even upset? Was she simply good at hiding? Then he realized. That human, Charlie, had abused her constantly. Over the years, she must have learned how to hide many things.

"Morgan," he fought to keep his voice soft, but despite his best efforts it came out slightly gravelly with anger. "You don't have to prove anything by sitting here alone with me. We ain't human and we know that scares people. It don't change the offer of protection. I won't let that guy anywhere near ya and we'll stay out of your way unless you need somethin'."

She nodded, thinking over his words. She stood and approached him slowly. Her standing put his face at a level with some rather distracting parts of her anatomy, but he was too surprised to see her moving toward him to take advantage. Instead he stared up into the angel's beautiful eyes, watching for the slightest hint of revulsion.

She may be blind, but her eyes were still the window to her soul and he read many things there.

Fear, yes, but not of him. Curiosity. Confusion. Strength. Caution. Courage. She stopped inches away from him. Close enough he could feel the heat coming off her warm-blooded body. He held his breath, concerned she would flee at the slightest motion.

"I need something," she said. "I'd like to know the man I'm trusting with my life."

His eyes widened as he gazed up at her serious expression. What was she asking him?

"May I touch you?"

It was a simple enough request, but it scared him. His heart pounded and his pulse raced. If he let her touch him, there would be no more hiding. No pretending she didn't know what he was, what they were. He hesitated and she noticed.

"What's wrong?"

He couldn't look at her anymore and dropped his head.

"You don't want to know me, Morgan. I'm a monster."

"And I'm a freak," she shot back, but her voice was gentle. "A nobody- certainly not worth risking your life and family for."

His head snapped up. "You are not! You're special. You have talents, gifts others only dream of. You're strong- God, you're strong- and courageous. Look at you, you survived years of torture and came out the other side a beauty."

His mouth snapped shut. He hadn't meant to say that. She flinched and stiffened in front of him, backing away a little. Every step she took was like a knife in his heart and her eyes filled with fear.

"You know about that?"

"Nothin' specific," he tried to reassure her. "Don told us the bastard was sadistic and held you captive for a long time. That's enough for me."

Thinking about it while gazing at the frightened young victim in front of him got his blood up. His heart continued pounding but this time for a completely different reason. He hoped this Charlie made a try for her himself, cause Raph wanted a chance to kill him.

Removing him from this world wouldn't heal her, but it would end the nightmare of her constant fear.

"I can't change what he did to you," his fists clenched and he flexed his muscles in agitation, "but I can promise- he'll never do it again."

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and murmured some quiet words. He didn't need to hear to know exactly what she said. Her meditation from the rooftop.

"Just breathe."

Slowly she put herself back together and returned to him.

"Close your eyes," she said.

He did so, trembling, as she reached for him. This might mean the end of her unusual acceptance, but he could not deny her.

Her hands landed on the top of his domed head and she explored it for a moment with gentle fingertips. His skin was smooth, a little scaly, and cool. She let her touch drift forward over his face, her thumbs running over his eyelids, surprised to discover he wore a mask.

She traced it around the top edge to the knot at the back, running the tail ends of his bandana through her fingers. Then followed the bottom edge back to his face. She spread her hands over another curve where his nose should have been and smoothed them outward until she felt the seamless blend into his wide cheeks.

He shivered and drew in a slight breath as she ran her thumbs along his lips. They were thin and pulled into a tight line denoting his jaw. She curled her fingers under his chin and slid them down the thick column of his neck.

Muscles and tendons sprang to life as he tensed and shuddered under her questing hands.

She knelt and let her palms drift apart, following the outline of his trapezius muscles to his shoulders, but she froze when her fingers met a hard substance at his back.

Raphael breathed out forcefully and bowed his head as she stood and stepped quickly behind him, her hands moving faster now over the top of his shell.

Fascinated, she stroked the surface of his carapace multiple times, tracing the seams and noting several deep chips and blemishes in the surface. She felt the intricate connections of the plates and admired the twisted design marking the edge.

She stopped when she reached his belt, fearing to invade his privacy.

She returned to his front and knelt again, dropping her hands lightly to his shoulders. She felt his breath on her face and he stared at her intently. He was panting, hot and heavy.

What did this feel like to him? His shell, though hard, was certainly sensitive. Shivers traveled up and down his spine at her caress. Her face flushed. Was this inappropriate? Was she triggering things best let lie?

It was too late to stop now. She ducked her head and proceeded with her exploration, this time running her hands down his front. He had armor plating here too. The hardness she thought a vest earlier this evening was actually a natural part of him.

She paused with her fingers on the top of his plastron, following the edge to his shoulder and down in a rounded square. She outlined the boundaries, paying attention to the way he gasped when she accidentally touched his more exposed sides.

The skin between his two shells was tough, like leather, but must contain more nerve endings for he practically vibrated as she ran her hand down it. Again she stopped when she reached his belt, but followed the top of it back around to the front. Her questing hands felt metal and she looked up into his face.

"What are these?"

Her question startled him, since it was the first break in the otherwise deathly silence of the room. She ran a single finger over the handle of his sai, but he reached out and caught her wrist, stopping her before she reached the sharpened tips. He pulled her hand quickly away.

"They're dangerous," he said. "Hand to hand weapons meant for breaking swords and piercing armor."

She nodded and he released her, but she wasn't done. It was her turn to catch his wrist with her left hand and she held her other palm even with his. She linked their fingers, realizing he had only two, though they were massive, and a thumb. She released his hand, ran her touch up his arms and over his huge biceps back to his shoulders.

Satisfied for the moment, she stood and cupped his cheeks in both her hands, forcing him to face her. Her eyes were bright and she leaned down to place a single chaste kiss on his forehead. Stunned, he stared wide eyed at the angel in front of him as she smiled, this time directly at him. It was like the sun coming up. Blinding, but so beautiful he could not look away.

"Thank you, Raphael," she said simply.

She released him, turned her back and dragged her tired body to bed, crawling on top of the covers to clutch her pillow against her chest. She peered in his general direction and asked,

"Will you stay 'til I fall asleep?"

Her voice was small, like a lost little child and the remainder of his heart melted. His knees felt like jelly and he wasn't going to be able to move for a while anyway. Unless someone threatened her.

"No problem," he mumbled.

She sighed softly and closed her eyes, enjoying the silence and the sound of his breathing. Just as she drifted off, she thought of something and if she hadn't been half asleep she wouldn't have said anything.

"Raphael?"

"hmm?"

His deep voice was closer than she remembered. She felt a blanket being drawn over her. Gentle hands, tucking it in.

"You're beautiful."

Then she was lost to slumber.


	13. Another point of view

**A/N: Hooray for Friday. Just to start your weekend off right, here's a little extra from Raph's POV**

"Close your eyes."

Who knew that quiet command would change the way he saw the world?

Raphael clenched his hands into fists, forcing them to remain in his lap as her fingertips made contact with the top of his head. It was all he could do not to flinch under her gentle touch.

He waited for her to jerk away, for his scaly green skin and the cool temperature of his body to repulse her, but she did not withdraw. Instead, her thumbs caressed his eyelids and she discovered his mask.

Fascinated, she leaned forward to trace the edge of red around to the back of his head and he was hyper aware of her chest nearing his face, even without opening his eyes. His mind began to race down paths it should not as her fingers trailed over him and her body drew closer. He grabbed his knees to keep his arms from drifting up to embrace her of their own accord.

He wanted her.

Desired her lips on his. Needed her body close to him, but that wasn't everything. He'd experienced lust before, and this was something more. Her presence had become essential to his daily life. Without her, he was twitchy, distracted.

Maybe his brother was right, perhaps he did love her. But she was a gorgeous human woman and he was a mutated animal. The odds were definitely against her returning those kinds of feelings.

He knew she was simply forming a mental picture of him, trying to come to terms with who and what they were, but he couldn't stop his imagination from running wild.

He pictured them entwined in each other's arms, rolling across the bed at the other end of the room. His mouth fastened on hers, his tongue exploring, tasting her. His shell grew tight as certain portions of his anatomy immediately reacted to such a vivid mental picture.

Her thumbs grazed his lips and he gasped, biting back a moan as it played into his fantasy. Her hands cupped his cheeks then lingered on his neck, and he tensed. This was wrong! Not what she was doing, but his thoughts.

Why can't I control them?

He took in a deep even breath, trying to quiet his mind, when she froze. Her fingers located his shell. The air he inhaled exploded forcefully from his mouth and he bowed his head, resigning himself to the fact she would surely run. Try to get as far away from him as she could.

She didn't. She stood and stepped around him curiously. Her hands brushed over his carapace, again and again as he shivered and shuddered, cursing his body's reaction to her touch. He opened his eyes as she returned to kneel in front of him and studied her face intently. His breathing fast and unstable.

He couldn't help but wonder what conclusions she was drawing from this little experiment. She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze and flushed. His eyes widened. Could she be thinking along the same lines? Was it even possible?

Her gentle hands ran down his plastron and tickled his side, a place where few ever touched. A thrum began deep inside his chest, an involuntary, primal noise indicating his arousal.

The call his kind reserved for their mates.

He held his breath, choking it back but it vibrated through him and he was sure she could feel it. Suddenly her hands left his skin, and feeling bereft, he glanced down to see why.

"What are these?"

Her question broke the intense silence and he started, grabbing her wrist as she came perilously close to impaling a hand on his sai.

"They're dangerous," he ground out. His voice shook, both from her recent contact and the sharp rush of adrenaline he experienced when he saw her in danger of puncturing herself. "Hand to hand weapons meant for breaking swords and piercing armor."

He realized he was holding her arm tight, much too hard for her fragile bones, and quickly released her wrist. She grabbed his in turn, comparing their hands. They were so different he shuddered and turned away until her slender fingers intertwined themselves with his.

His eyes snapped back to her face, but all she wore was a look of studied concentration.

She dropped his hand and ran hers up his arms, completing her circuit at last. He cast his eyes down, ashamed of his behaviour, afraid to learn her thoughts.

Her hands cupped his cheeks, forcing his head up and her eyes were shining as he gazed helplessly at her. She leaned in close and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

He felt dizzy, like the time he misjudged the timing in a sparring match and Donnie struck him solidly in the back of the head. All thoughts fled and he sat there, staring at her stupidly. Then she smiled.

It was just like before.

He swore her smile lit up the room, but this time it was directed at him and only him. Another rush of longing flowed through him as he bathed in the glow of her expression. This time though its companion was hope. She hadn't run from him or even flinch away. Instead, she smiled.

"Thank you, Raphael."

He was too shocked to respond. She turned away, eyes half lidded, exhaustion catching up to her. As she crawled into bed, he stared at the floor, trying to convince his unwilling body it was time to leave her when all he wanted was to climb up there next to her and lay down by her side.

"Will you stay til I fall asleep?"

Her innocent question recalled their circumstances and he realized, despite their interlude, she was still lost and afraid. An evil man, one who tortured her was loose in New York and tonight she found out her guardians weren't human.

His heart melted at the request. If his presence made this situation even slightly more bearable for her, he would stay all night. Every night.

"No problem," he mumbled as she sighed and closed her eyes.

He examined her minutely from across the room, memorizing her features. He wanted to remember every detail of this event, this moment when she accepted him.

As her breathing evened out and she drifted towards unconsciousness, something changed. Bruises he had forgotten she received reappeared on her skin. They inched up her arm, slowly revealing themselves like something out of a nightmare. The brace she wore for her sprained wrist appeared as well and the black eye from the strike of that Foot bastard in the alley.

He frowned.

 _What the hell was going on?_

Concern mounting, he fought the urge to yell for Donnie. The injuries did not seem any worse than they were before. Obviously, she had not, as Don thought, covered them with makeup. She had some other trick up her sleeve.

She was dropping off so he decided not to wake her and inquire, but he crept closer to the bed for a better look. She shivered on top of the covers so he detoured to the pile of bedding he brought in earlier to snag another blanket.

"Raphael?"

Her quiet voice startled him, he thought she was asleep.

"hmm?"

He draped the quilt over her, tucking it carefully around her sides, avoiding all contact with her bruises.

"You're beautiful."

All the blood rushed from his face, butterflies churned in his stomach, and his knees went weak.

 _She did not just say that, did she?_

He sat down hard on the floor by the bed and waited, but she was well and truly asleep now. No more words were forthcoming. He remained there for a long time, silently contemplating her face and wondering if he would ever find the courage to tell her what he felt.


	14. Family is Complicated

Leonardo's eyes tracked his brother as he led their guest to the meditation room and he approved of what he saw. Raphael hovered protectively over Morgan, his body language declaring what he, himself, was still not willing to admit. He obviously held strong feelings for the petite woman.

Satisfied Raph was looking after her, he glanced at April. From her slumped posture and the bags under her eyes, she shouldn't be traveling home alone, but he wasn't sure he could get her to remain.

"April, it's late. You'll stay the night, won't you?" he asked, putting a little catch in his voice.

Donatello shot him a conspiratorial glance and chimed in.

"You can use my bed. I've got a project I have to babysit so I'll need to crash on the cot in the lab anyway."

April yawned. She wanted to protest Leo's overprotective streak, but the moment she stood the stress of the day and the lateness of the hour caught up with her. Instead, she sighed, nodded gratefully, and made her way toward Don's room. It wouldn't be the first time she borrowed a bed from one of the guys.

"You think we made a good impression?" Michelangelo asked, hope in his eyes.

"We shall see, my son," Splinter said, but he was smiling.

"I think it went well," Don added, drifting toward the lab. "She came here by choice, she didn't scream and she's predisposed to like our species."

Leo smiled faintly at his family in approval. "All in all, not a bad night's work."

"Hope Raph doesn't mess it up," Mikey said staring down the hall where Raph and Morgan disappeared with a little frown.

And with that vote of confidence they retired for the night.

An hour later, Raphael emerged from their new guest's room, sliding the door shut behind him. His brow furrowed as he passed through the living room to the kitchen. He was so deep in thought he didn't notice his older brother sitting on the sofa watching him. When Leo joined him, drawing out the chair across the table, he started and dropped a hand to his sai. As soon as he registered the intruder as Leo, he let down his guard.

"Thought everyone had turned in," he said to cover his surprise.

"Mostly," Leo said with a shrug.

Raph stared at him for a long time, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as Leo's drifted to the door where the angel slept.

"She comfortable?" he asked, inclining his head toward the meditation room.

Raph shrugged.

"Still bruised, battered, and scared, but sleeping. Why? Did you think she'd be waiting for ya with open arms?"

Leo sighed.

"I think she needs a safe place to recover."

Raph growled and his fist hit the table, the sharp bang echoing through the night time silence of the lair.

"Enough games. Tell me straight, Leo. What do you see when you look at her?"

"A vibrant young woman who's done the impossible."

Raph closed his eyes. He _knew_ his brother had feelings for Morgan.

 _Why?_ He moaned mentally. _Of all the women in this city, why did Leo have to fall for this girl? The one who completes me?_

He couldn't compete with Mr. Perfect for her affections. It was a fight he was bound to lose. But Leonardo wasn't done with his observations.

"She's tough, loyal, and adaptable. She understands what it means to be... unique. Her talents let her see past the surface and she's learned to appreciate what's underneath. She's faced incredible odds and escaped unbowed from our worst enemy."

 _And she got your attention, my hard-hearted brother._

"When I look at her, I see your perfect match, Raphael."

"What?"

"You heard me. I don't want Morgan the way you do. I never have. But I do think she's the best thing that could happen to you, and I would welcome her to our family... if things work out. And if they don't, she still deserves our protection."

Raphael sat blinking at Leo, his face a comical mask of incomprehension. He took a few moments to collect his scattered thoughts.

"You're gonna support me in this?"

"Whatever _this_ turns out to be, yes. You're my brother, Raph. It's always been us against the world."

"You think I got a chance?"

Leo grinned slyly and seized the rare opportunity to tease Raphael.

"I saw the way she flushed when we entered the lair tonight, and it certainly wasn't because of me."

"Ha-Ha."

"You were in with her a long time... You tuck her in Prince Charming?"

Raph's whole face turned darker shade of green and Leo couldn't resist laughing.

"I'll bet you did!"

"It weren't like that," Raph growled, swiping at Leo to cover his embarrassment. "She's curious. She wanted to get an idea what we're like."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Details, bro. Don't leave me hanging here."

Raph grimaced.

"I let her touch my head..."

"And?"

"And my shell. You happy?"

"But what did she think? I didn't hear any screaming about your ugly mug-"

Raph sighed and his expression became bewildered before it disappeared behind his standard frown. Leo frowned as well. He hadn't meant to push too far.

"Sorry, Raph. I was only teasing."

Leo didn't expect anything more from him. When Raphael put his guard up, he was usually done talking. But instead of shutting down, his brother stared at the table top and spoke again.

"She smiled at me," Raph glanced up and his eyes bored into Leo's with a gaze so intense it was painful to meet yet impossible to turn away. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Leo swallowed hard before he could speak again. Shaken by the depth of emotion revealed in his brother's eyes. "That's... good though, right?"

"I dunno. Is it good that if she asked I'd take the world apart for her with my bare hands? Is it good that if I ever meet this Charlie fella, I'm gonna break him like a toothpick? I can't get her outta my head, Leo. She's always there, behind my eyes, with that smile."

"The line forms here to beat down Charlie," Leo said, his mouth settling in a grim line. "No matter what, he needs to be taken out. But... it's ok to be protective, Raph. I think she needs it. I've seen the records Don found, and I can almost guarantee you she hasn't felt safe in a long time."

Raph stared at him across the table.

"What records?"

Leo mentally cursed his slip of the tongue. Twice tonight he'd dropped the verbal ball. Something about talking seriously with Raph made him reveal more than he should, probably because it didn't happen often. He watched his language around Don but it didn't matter so much around Mikey.

"The FBI intake forms were... rather extensive. Notations cataloging her previous physical injuries; x-rays, photos, and what not. You don't want to see them Raph."

He braced himself for the demand sure to follow. Raphael hated to be told what not to do, but surprisingly his brother simply grunted.

"Someday, I wanna see it all, but right now I'd rather not upset her. She doesn't want me to know. Gets all shaky when the topic comes up. She's ashamed for some reason like I'll think less of her," Raph said. He shrugged. 'I already want to kill the guy. Nothing in the file is gonna change anything."

 _It might change -how- you want to kill him though._ Leo thought. _The bastard has more than earned a little suffering._

The record contained pages and pages of documents on her abuse. And then there was the brand. That Raph did need to know about. Eventually. If things got hot and heavy between them... well it was something his brother shouldn't be blindsided with. It was certainly something Morgan wouldn't be able to explain.

"What do you think Charlie's connection is to the Foot?" Raph asked. "He wouldn't use their name without permission, even on the West Coast. You think they're partners?"

"According to Don, his business got seized by Vallen. If they are the new front for the Foot, I'd say the Shredder's trying to get Charlie's attention. Hard to tell what kind of partnership they might have until Don digs a little deeper."

"Maybe he ain't here cause of Morgan," Raph said. "Shredder coulda summoned him."

"I wouldn't take that chance."

Raphael recognized his brother's tone. It embodied a certain combination of serious and firm that drove him up the wall. It meant Leo knew something he wasn't ready to share and nothing short of a freight train was going to pry it out of him. But it was a warning all the same.

It cranked his protective instinct to the max. Worriedly, his eyes darted back to the meditation room door. Focusing intently, as if he could see right through to the sleeping girl on the other side.

"I'm gonna take the couch tonight," he muttered, his heart filled with a lingering kind of dread and he felt a powerful need to keep himself between her and the most likely point of entry.

Leo stood and pushed in his chair, indicating they were done for the night.

"Good idea, my brother," he said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll keep her safe."

* * *

Morgan dragged herself out of bed to the unfamiliar sounds of other people getting ready for the day. Talking and laughter were coming from behind her shoji screen door, so she figured it was time to get up. She touched her watch for the time.

"11:47 AM," the mechanical voice said.

 _What?_

She'd slept almost eight full hours in a single stretch. That hadn't happened in years. At Charlie's mansion she woke every 2 hours in a panic. Fear pooling in her stomach whenever the guard's footsteps echoed outside her door. And at her apartment, evil dreams woke her multiple times a night.

Uninterrupted sleep was a gift, an absolute gift. And she was pretty sure she knew who to thank for it. Raphael's presence last night made all the difference. With him she was secure. Protected. He'd agreed to stay by her when she asked without a second thought and his spicy scent soothed her like nothing else.

Now she fretted. Today she was going to 'see' him again. In fact, they were going to see each other for quite a few mornings, if he had his way. She puttered nervously around her room for a few minutes, finding her discarded undergarments, setting her clothes to rights and patting her hair into place.

Somewhere in this underground safe-house was a bag with clean clothes in it. Raphael had absconded with it last night on the rooftop so she wouldn't have to carry it, but it had yet to make its way into her room. She wanted her hair brush and a change of outfit, but for now sweats would have to do.

She hauled on her hoodie and stood behind the door fortifying herself. These were good people. They wanted to protect her. April was out there, and so was Raphael. The latter convinced her to open the door and step out into the hallway.

A few steps along the corridor was the living room. Beyond, voices chatted in a relaxed, comfortable way. She headed for them, avoiding the furniture adroitly. Hesitantly, she stopped in the doorway of what could only be the kitchen.

The scent of breakfast made her stomach growl loudly and it echoed into the sudden silence that greeted her approach. She flushed and waved a hand shyly to the group who sat around what must be a dining table.

April and Leonardo were nearest her, while Donatello and Splinter sat on the opposite side. Michelangelo skipped back and forth at the other end of the room. From his location and constant motion, she assumed he was the one cooking the food.

"Good morning, Miss Jennings," Splinter said. "I hope your accommodations were comfortable. Please, join us."

His warm voice evoked the memory of his deep laughter last night and Morgan began to relax until Donatello abruptly stood and moved toward her in concern. She flinched slightly and he immediately stopped where he was, drawing no nearer.

"Morgan, I didn't notice your bruises last night," he said, keeping his voice even and low. "They're more extensive than I thought. Are they hurting you? I can get you some pain medication."

Mutely she shook her head.

"What about your wrist? Can you move it all right?" he insisted.

"Donnie is our resident doc as well as our plumber, electrician, mechanical engineer, and genius," Michelangelo interrupted from his position at the stove. "He's the one who patched you up before, so if anything's bothering you, let him know OK?"

The cheerful young turtle said this in a loud stage whisper, like they were already best friends and he was imparting the latest gossip. His interruption was so perky and well timed Morgan almost smiled.

"Ok," she said at last. "Thank you. I'll let you know if it becomes a problem."

As Donatello resumed his seat, she walked nearer to April, sliding cautiously into the next chair.

"Where's Raphael?" She asked timidly, hoping the others wouldn't take offense. She was much more at ease when he was beside her.

"Would you believe he's _still_ in the shower," Mikey said, rolling his eyes as he flipped a group of pancakes in the air. "He was the last into training this morning so he's last to clean up. But we should be hearing from him any minute now-"

"Mi-key!" Raphael roared from out near the living room.

Morgan started up out of her chair so quickly it fell over and hit the floor with a bang. She backed away until she hit the wall, trembling with fear.

He was so ANGRY!

The wild rage he projected made her want to run to her room and hide under the covers. Intense fury, in her experience, meant undeserved beatings. The kind that went on for hours.

"Please remain calm, Miss Jennings," Leonardo said with a sigh. "Raph loses his temper on a regular basis. It usually doesn't take him too long to find it again."

"He locates it right after he takes a piece out of Mikey's shell," Donatello added with a laugh. "Then it's a while before he stops smiling."

 _Raphael beats up his own brother for fun?_

A soft voice of warning sounded in her mind. _He obviously isn't what you thought._

She shook her head unable to reconcile this version of him with the caring person who watched over her for the past two weeks.

 _Appearances can be deceiving, Morgan._ The little voice whispered. _You, more than anyone, know that. Charlie reeled you in the same way; pretending to be the hero._

Mikey stood, shaking his head in the middle of the kitchen, unaware of her panicked thoughts.

"No one appreciates a good practical joke anymore," he said with an overstated frown.

When he saw Morgan's terrified face and his expression grew concerned.

"Don't worry," he said. Not sure why she was upset but trying to reassure her. "Raphie-boy will have to catch me first."

"Do not fear, Miss Jennings," Splinter's soft voice said from her left. "Michelangelo is a trained martial artist, more than capable of defending himself. He and his brother spar constantly. It is their... thing."

They almost had her convinced, but a very steamed Raphael chose that moment to storm into the room and advance on his younger brother growling menacingly.

"Now, now, Raph," Mikey said backing away holding a hot pan up between them. "You don't want to maim me before I finish making Morgan's breakfast, do you?"

The oddest thing happened at the mention of her name. Raphael froze where he stood for a split second before he spun to see her cowering against the wall. He stared at her for a full minute, and she felt his eyes raking her from head to toe. Her fear struck him like a blow and a pained expression crossed his face.

He turned abruptly without saying a word and left the way he had come.

Mikey stood blinking, confused by this reaction. Leo and Don exchanged a glance as Splinter gazed solemnly after his retreating son. Leo started to rise, but April stopped him.

"I got this," she said standing.

She motioned to Morgan with a tilt of her head and Leo nodded his understanding.

"I'll be right back," April murmured and headed after the red-banded turtle.

Leo turned to the frightened girl and extended a hand, hoping she'd take it and return to the table.

"Morgan," he said. "Raph is a rather hot-headed, high-strung guy, but he cares deeply for all the members of this family and he would never hurt any of us deliberately. You least of all."

Morgan started. It was the first time Leonardo had spoken her first name. Familiarity and his caring tone broke through the barrier of fear holding her frozen. Unfortunately, it also released the tears she'd been trying to keep inside. A single drop slide down her cheek, leaving a wet trail. More followed but she couldn't seem to stop them.

Mikey's eyes jumped from Leo to Morgan and back a few times before comprehension dawned on his face. He dropped the pan he held with a loud clang and raced across the room to her, ignoring all propriety.

"Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod," he said, grabbing the motionless girl up in an overbearing hug. "I didn't mean to scare you! I'm so sorry! Raph was being so serious and uptight this morning at training, I thought I'd prank him. I didn't realize how crazy his anger would seem to you. Please don't cry!"

"Yamete* Michelangelo!" Splinter's voice cut through the youngest turtle's plea and he immediately released Morgan and stood back. "Miss Jennings is still getting used to our home. Please try to conduct yourself with some restraint."

"Hai, Sensei," he said in a contrite voice. "Morgan..."

He turned back to the girl, but she fled before anything else could happen. She dashed across the living area to the safe haven of her room, sliding the door shut and collapsing on her bed. She grabbed a pillow to stifle her sobs and trembled convulsively on the mattress.

 _Raphael seemed so protective... I thought he cared about people._

 _You wanted him to care about you,_ the little voice said insidiously. _But he's no different. Someday he'll snap in a moment of anger and then where will you be._

Her breathing accelerated and she fought to stave off a panic attack as best she could.

 _Raphael won't. He's good. I can feel it._

 _Nonsense. He's Charlie all over again, only this time instead of a mansion you're trapped underground..._

If it were true, she couldn't stay here. She knew the way back. Martin could relocate her, try to protect her. Suddenly her blood ran cold as she realized she didn't even know how to open the front door. A knock on her shoji screen made her jump to her feet and push herself back into the farthest corner of her room. Curling into a ball.

"Morgan?" A soft voice called, full of concern. "Can I come in?"

The voice was Michelangelo, hesitating outside her door. Of all of them, he was the least intimidating despite the overly boisterous hug. Perhaps she could persuade him to show her the door.

She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes before replying.

"Yes."

Her response was so soft she thought he might not hear, but the door instantly slid aside.

Mikey stared into the pitch black room, searching for her. He felt like such a heel for engineering this mess and he wanted to make sure she was ok. He fumbled for the light switch but even with the bright illumination it took him two full minutes to locate her. She was a small human ball trembling in the back corner of the room. She hid behind a pillow and kept the table between them.

His face fell. She was not ok.

He came inside but left the door open and settling himself gingerly on the side of her bed and leaving her an unimpeded escape route. Instinctively, he knew it would make her more comfortable. He sat on his hands and stared at the floor, wondering what he could say to fix this.

"I screwed up," he said at last, with a short bark of ironic laughter. "I always screw things up. It's my curse. But I hope you'll let me explain."

He sighed when she said nothing.

"Our family is complicated."

Her head lift from her knees. He saw it out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't turn. He had her attention, at least.

"My brothers and I grew up isolated yet totally aware of the world above," he said and paused for a moment. "Your world was not always kind. Our father tried to shelter us but as we grew older, we learned how different we truly were and it didn't take long to figure out we would never be accepted up there."

Morgan tilted her head thoughtfully. She understood what it felt like to be different. To never fit in, no matter how hard she tried. Fitting in, being normal is what landed her with Charlie.

"Each of us dealt with the realization a little differently," Mikey said, "Donnie dove into his projects, determined to make our lives down here the best they could be. Leo drove himself to perfect the talents that keep us safe and hidden. I'm an optimist, so I was sure we would eventually make some friends, even if took a long time, but Raph... got angry. Angry at the world which labeled us freaks, angry at himself for caring. It turned into a kind of never ending rage, like a pot on a low boil at the back of the stove. Very little was needed to set him off and when he ignited, it was hard to rein him in, even for our father. Raph withdrew into himself and built walls around his heart. He thought it was helping him deal, but it wasn't healthy."

Morgan shuddered. "How can you stand to live with someone like that?" she asked in a quiet shaking voice. "Someone so close to becoming all the things you stand against?"

"He's not close, not at all," Mikey said. "Even though he sometimes fears he is. Eventually, I figured it out. Raph only pretends not to care about anything. The problem is he does care. He cares a lot. He's so protective he goes berserk if any of us is injured. But his heart is too big to stop at family. He cares about the regular people up there too. He patrols the streets night after night stopping them from hurting each other. That's what he was doing when he first saw you."

"But he gets so angry," Morgan said.

Mikey shrugged. "He needed an outlet. Something that wasn't an inanimate punching bag. Something that could dash away and lead him on a merry chase. Wear him out. Something that, if he did catch it and give it a pounding, was tough and would defend itself so he didn't have to worry about going too far."

She gasped and he knew he'd struck a cord. She had been used as a human punching bag, had been the person who couldn't fight back. That's why Raph's anger frightened her so badly. Mikey chanced a glance over at her. Despite her gasp, she was no longer hiding behind the cushion and she had scooted a little closer to hear the story.

"I decided to make that something me. I'm fast, I'm trained and he can't really hurt me. But he never wanted to channel his anger in my direction, so I learned all his triggers, his buttons, and... I pushed them."

Mikey hung his head and twisted a toe sheepishly on the floor.

"Michelangelo?" she said, her voice much nearer. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it's different now you're here. He's different. You need to understand he's not some wildly out of control mutant. Over the years, he's mellowed and he's perfectly capable of modulating the worst of his temper himself. He would never take it out on you."

"You seem so sure," she said. "I wish I could be as confident."

"You saw him, well, I mean... uh, you were there, in the kitchen. He didn't even throw a punch after he found out you were present. It's just habit, our relationship I mean. I see him moody and contemplating deep thoughts, I tease, he pursues, we wrestle and in the end it's all smiles."

"And he was... moody this morning?"

"He's been uptight for weeks. Since he saw you the very first time. The sadder you got the crazier he became. The tension I felt this morning though, he's worried. I might even go so far as to say afraid. And Raphael doesn't do fear. It eats him up inside."

"Do you know what he's afraid of?" she whispered.

"It's not hard to guess."

When he looked up again, she was standing right in front of him. She reached out a tentative hand and he took it, squeezing gently.

"Losing you."

* * *

 **A/N:** _*Yamete, Splinter's command to Mikey above translates roughly to: "Stop what you are doing."_


	15. Picking up the pieces

**Picking up the pieces**

Raphael immediately left the lair. Pulling the pipe to open the door and striding into the black beyond. Determined to put as much distance between himself and the woman he terrified into immobility as possible.

But the moment the door shut and the darkness closed in around him, his knees gave way. He sank down covering his face in despair. She hadn't even been here 24 hours and he destroyed her fragile sense of security.

Behind his eyes, the smile which haunted him was replaced by her stricken expression of fear. In response, he balled up a fist and rammed the concrete floor as hard as he could.

Physical pain blossomed and ran up his arm, but it did nothing to numb the agony in his heart.

He gasped a harsh breath and repeated the motion, striking the shadowy gray cement over and over in some twisted form of corporal punishment. Tears soaked his red mask through, turning the cloth a darker shade, as his knuckles split and blood dampened the ground.

It was his penance. Tears for her fear. Blood for her pain.

He paused when he heard a startled female gasp, so distracted by emotions beyond his control he hadn't even noticed the door opening again. April stood beside him.

She grabbed his injured hand, forcing him to quit, and tilted it to the light streaming out of the lair. He jerked from her grasp, hauled himself to his feet and started to stumble away. He didn't need her pity. He didn't want it.

"Raphael, stop right there."

Something in her command, fierce and protective, made him wait even though he didn't want to. He refused to look back. He simply continued staring bitterly off into the darkness of the tunnel, where monsters like him belonged.

Again Morgan's frightened visage appeared before him; huge hazel eyes gleaming with unshed tears, dark brows drawn sharply together, rosy lips trembling on the verge of a scream. He closed his eyes, but it made no difference. Her terror still stared him in the face.

"Raph," April approached him cautiously and laid a palm on his bicep, her voice gentle. "She's going to be fine. She needs a little time to cope, but afterward you should go see her."

"She ain't gonna want to be anywhere near me."

He slumped sideways against the wall and let himself slide to the ground, his voice flat and dead. "I've seen a lot of fear in the streets, April. I know what terror looks like and this time she was afraid of me."

She stood directly in front of him and tilted his chin up to meet her gaze. When she caught his eyes, the misery in them was overwhelming and they still gleamed; wet with his tears.

"You can't blame yourself for an everyday situation in this household," she scolded. "Your brothers will explain what happened. She will understand."

Raphael pulled his face away and stared at the floor.

"She has a right to be afraid. She was tortured! I promised her safety. I said I would keep the monsters at bay! Instead, I became one."

"You are not a monster! Mikey pranked you and you responded the way you always do. Everybody in the family knows the routine. You growl and chase, he runs, and the whole thing ends by the tv for movie night."

She stomped a foot to emphasize her point, but she wasn't getting through. He was lost in unfamiliar emotional territory and his voice dropped so low she almost couldn't hear him.

"Last night, I thought I might have a chance. She... She learned I was different but she wasn't afraid. Now..." he groaned in pain and anger, "I'll never get the image out of my head. She thinks I've lost my mind."

"It's not that serious."

"It is to her," he said with emphasis. "I can't even begin to imagine where that scenario ended for her."

"So you need to talk to her! She will never heal if she doesn't learn anger itself isn't evil. You can show her it's simply a spark. What people choose to do with it makes it good or ill."

"You get that from one of Splinter's lectures?"

He turned on her, yelling and waving a hand in frustration. "So what happens next time I get angry? I scare her all over again? Is that it? She's just gonna live in fear?"

"Next time she will know what's going on! You can't change your nature, Raph. She's going to have to accept anger as a part of your endearing personality. And what did you think you were doing to your hand? How was that helping in any way?"

"It just does, April, OK? Just... leave me the hell alone. I don't wanna talk about it. I don't care anymore. I don't care about her or any of this shit."

Guilt overwhelmed him the moment he said it. It wasn't true and he would be horrified if Morgan ever heard something like that from his lips. Yet, he said it anyway.

 _I am a monster._

He shoved himself to his feet and was about to walk away when April's quiet retort stopped him in his tracks.

"Raphael, you are a terrible liar."

He looked over his shoulder at her with a grimace and a small growl for being called out, but April was made of stern stuff. She didn't back down.

"I get it. It would be easier not to care," she said. "Caring makes you vulnerable, gives the world a chance to hurt you. But you are too far down that road, my friend. You can't leave her now."

"Yeah? Who says?"

"I do."

He shook his head.

"Come on, Raph. Think about it. Really consider running away and not coming back. What would that do to you?"

She fell quiet as he took her advice, imagining what it would be like to wake up alone for weeks somewhere else in the sewers while his brothers sheltered the angel in the lair.

Would he spend his time wondering if she was ok with them? Worrying about if, or when, Charlie and the Foot were going to catch on to the fact she was hiding out underground?

Leonardo's behavior last night gave him the sneaking suspicion Shredder might be far more involved in the girl's predicament than he first believed. If so, their arch enemy would snatch her up the moment she showed her face topside.

How long would they even be able to convince her to stay underground? She only came down in the first place because she trusted him, and he had destroyed that trust.

He suddenly realized he wouldn't get far at all. He couldn't without breaking his promise of protection and no matter what, he wasn't going to leave her unguarded. He would end up camping in a nearby tunnel to keep an eye on things, but after a short while, even that wouldn't be enough.

Knowing she was on the other side of the wall and not being able to see her? Pure torture.

He'd spend all his time trying to figure out what she was thinking. Worrying about whether or not she was sleeping. What if her nightmares returned and he heard her scream? He couldn't stop himself from responding.

April watched as the flurry of different emotions chased each other across his face. Finally he scrubbed them clear with his un-bloodied hand and sighed in frustration.

"You're right. I can't help her by leaving."

"So, you'll talk to her?"

"I'm gonna stay outta her way."

April blew a puff of frustrated air through her bangs. At least he wasn't running.

They re-entered the brightness of the lair to find the family grouping dispersed. From the sounds, Leonardo and Master Splinter were sparring in the dojo and Donatello's mad typing echoed from the open door of the lab.

When he saw her, he understood why they cleared out of the kitchen. Morgan had been crying. Her eyes held the tell-tale puffiness he knew all too well from their evenings on the rooftops, and his family was trying to offer her a little bit of privacy.

Morgan sat at the table looking much more comfortable alone while Michelangelo moved about talking animatedly, distracting her while he put together a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns. She nodded in response to some question he asked and even smiled a little.

"See," April said, "she's going to be fine. She's tougher than you give her credit for."

Mikey glanced up, saw them, and shook his head ever so slightly. He didn't want them to join her yet. Raph quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to scare her again. His brother set the plate in front of her with a cheerful flourish and she tentatively nibbled the first bite.

"Oh my god, Michelangelo, these are amazing!" she said and proceeded to finish the entire dish in under a minute. Mikey stood staring as she wolfed the food down and fell dramatically to his knees next to her chair as she gave a loud, satisfied belch.

"MARRY ME!" he said clasping her uninjured hand.

She blinked in surprise and her shoulders began to shake with silent laughter. It had been so long since she laughed, for a moment she was uncertain what to do. Without conscious direction, the mirth burst forth from her mouth in a fit of uncontrollable giggling. She attempted to stifle them, but Mikey wouldn't let go of her hand, planting hilariously over the top kisses on the back with large smacking sounds.

Morgan doubled over with laughter and pointed feebly at him with a shaking finger. She tried to say something, but her words were distorted by the sound and all he could make out was a series of croaked vowels interrupted frequently by cute little snorts.

"I-uh-you-he-he-ha - but- n-uh eeh ha-heh!"

Her laughter was infectious and Mikey was clearly doing no better. He released her hand, rolling on the floor, his own loud chortles making him pant.

"But -uh-hah- your-hehehe -face uh-ha!"

The sweet sound of her laugh drew Raph across the room despite himself. Her back was to him, but she sensed his approach and her expression faltered. While he was still ten feet away, her nostrils flared and she stiffened.

The happy noise cut off as quickly as it appeared and she spun in her chair toward him.

The blood drained from her face as her countenance morphed into one of caution and guarded concern. Raphael froze where he stood. His brother noticed the abrupt tension in the atmosphere and sat up wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Raph! I was-" Mikey began.

"Why are you bleeding?"

Morgan's intense query was almost a hiss, cutting the orange banded turtle off before he could defuse the situation.

"Morgan, I..." Raph's voice died away as he realized she hadn't said what he thought she would. She wasn't demanding an explanation for his behavior. Instead, she was worried about him. Somehow she could tell he was injured.

Before he could form an appropriate response, she jumped to her feet and rushed to his side, snatching up his hand.

"Why are you bleeding?" she asked again, raising an upset face to his. "Were you attacked? Never mind. Surely there's a first aid kit around here somewhere, yes?"

Her voice was high and her sentences ran together.

"Hey, hold on now, it's only a little cut," Raph protested, but stilled himself when she leaned directly over his bloody knuckles and inhaled deeply.

Time seemed to slow.

Her face was so close to his skin it was almost a caress. He could feel her breath and the tension in her fingers as she lightly gripped his in both her little hands. Her eyes fell shut. Her dark, thick lashes brushing her cheeks as she concentrated. A few rogue curls slipped from behind her ears and stroked the edges of his palm as they fell.

Chills ran down his spine as intense feelings of desire and concern swept through him. Lava and ice filled his blood and his senses became hyperaware. Instinctively his nostrils flared and the intensity of her scent struck him like a blow.

Something deep inside him uncurled in response to that stimulus. A primal sort of recognition demanding his complete attention. Every iota of his body, mind, and soul focused on the tiny female in front of him as nature screamed to him, in no uncertain terms, that this angel was his perfect mate.

A pulse of awareness passed through his nervous system.

Like the ping of sonar through water, it flowed out through his hand and into Morgan's form. In some way he could not comprehend, the pain of her injuries echoed back to him; the twisted mass of muscles and a horrible sense of wrongness in her wrist, the tension of her delicate skin as the swelling stretched it near her eye, the dull throb of the bruises on the back of her neck.

He also sensed a deeper injury. A lingering torment buried far below her conscious thoughts, a constant ache that had existed for so long she probably wasn't even aware of it anymore. That misery struck him to the core and he realized he would do anything to relieve it, no matter how long it took.

His mind absorbed every detail of her personal imprint, memorized every part of her and synchronized his systems to hers. His breathing shifted to mimic her and his heart matched her beat.

Abruptly, the pulse recoiled and was gone; taking the strange connection with it, leaving him profoundly altered.

"It is not just a little cut," Morgan said straightening beside him. Her face was serious but showed no sign of the emotional transaction he experienced. With a start, he realized what seemed like hours spent exploring her psyche was only a few seconds.

"You've split the skin across all four joints and one of them already has traces of multiplying bacteria."

"Whoa, Morgan, you can tell all that from a single sniff?" Mikey asked. "Amazing!"

She shrugged, not wanting to explain. "I've always been able to do it. Now is somebody going to get me a first aid kit or do I need to call Donatello? You said he's the doctor right?"

"Did I hear someone mention my name?" Donnie asked, coming up behind them, a medkit in hand. He stopped several feet away in deference to her feelings, watching her face alertly. "You want to let me see your hand, Raph?"

Morgan tensed as she sensed Don's eyes on her and she blushed, releasing Raphael as if his palm burned her. She retreated, stepping rapidly back as Don moved in.

"You beating up concrete again, hot-head?" Donatello asked.

"Something like that," Raph said, so distracted by the unusual sensations he actually admitted what he'd done.

He realized he was staring at Morgan and forced himself to look away. She had to be the source of the strange sonar like pulse, but he got the feeling it wasn't supposed to go both ways.

He studied the floor, Don's serious face, the wall of the kitchen, anything to keep his eyes off her. It didn't work. He took what he hoped was a stealthy glance in her direction, but her face was guarded and somehow closed, as if she understood how easily he could read her and was determined to shut him down.

She turned to Mikey who was hovering on the edge of the group.

"Michelangelo, do you think you could show me where the bathroom is and find the bag with my clothes? I'd like to take a shower and change."

His face lit up. "Sure! I'll give you a tour of the whole lair, but you have to promise to call me Mikey."

He touched her lightly on the elbow and guided her away as Raphael frowned behind them, suppressing a slight growl. His cheerful brother had no problem being in contact with her, taking her arm freely at any given moment. Unconcerned about any negative reaction she might have. And Morgan was letting him. Heck, she let him slobber all over her hand a minute ago!

Raph's blood heated and his face flushed as he realized he was jealous of his little brother's ability to charm the pants off practically any living being. Why couldn't he put her at ease like that?

Donatello brought him back to Earth abruptly when he probed a little too close to one of the open cuts and Raph snatched his hand back with a hiss.

"Leave it, Don. It's no big deal."

Donnie cocked his head and met his eyes.

"She obviously thought it was."

"She don't understand our mutation, how fast we heal."

"She's right though. If you don't take care, you'll end up with an infection. How will you protect her if you can't fight because you're laid up with some blood-borne illness?"

"Ok," he grumbled, thrusting out his hand for treatment, "Do it quick. I got stuff to do today."

"And I don't?" Donnie raised a brow but opened the kit and pulled out the alcohol to disinfect his wounds.

He flushed again. "Sorry, Don. I-"

"Never mind, Raph." Don's voice was as gentle as his hands. "She's got you all turned around. I understand."

Raphael rested his good hand on his brother's shoulder for a moment. "Thanks, Donnie."

"Don't mention it. There is something you can do for me though."

"What do you need?"

"To examine Morgan. Her wrist is not looking good. From what I can see, the swelling is intense. I'll need to scan it to be sure, but I think it needs more than a brace. She's too afraid to let me come near her though. I thought you could talk her into it, you know, offer to come with her to the lab."

Raphael frowned, his brow ridges drawing together in concern as he remembered the sense of wrongness in her wrist. Something was definitely amiss, but he wasn't sure she would listen to him.

"I don't think she trusts me now. Mikey or April might be able to convince her."

Donatello shook his head.

"Talk to her, Raph. The others are getting closer to her, but you're the one she instinctively turns to."

* * *

The hot water of the shower felt heavenly, soothing Morgan's frazzled nerves as the steam enclosed her in its protective mist and gave her a few precious moments of privacy.

 _What happened out there?_

As her body slowly came back under her control, she tried to determine exactly what had occurred between her and Raphael. She had been laughing so hard she was surprised she even sensed him entering the lair again, but the second she caught a whiff of blood everything changed.

His blood smelled like his natural scent, only stronger, with an underlying hint of copper. And despite her new wariness of him, she couldn't stop herself from asking what happened. When she didn't get a satisfactory response she moved to his side to assess the injury for herself.

It was something she'd been able to do ever since she was a child. With the proper application of concentration, her senses expanded even further until she could tell what was wrong with the patient in front of her, down to the smallest cut.

When she focused on Raphael, something unexpected occurred.

Moments stretched into hours and she delved deep into his form. More than his current injuries revealed themselves to her. The pulse she sent to him reflected oddly back and forth between them, magnifying with each pass until every cell of his body unveiled itself. She sensed the location and source of every scar on his skin, every mark on his shell.

With the physical knowledge came a rush of emotion. She was already far too familiar with the way her body reacted to his scent, but this was different. Intense feelings sprang forth from a well deep inside her. Desire and attraction were present, but also something more.

She almost drew away from him for she rediscovered something she'd thought lost long ago. It had never really been missing, simply shattered by the physical and mental abuse of a man. She'd thought it forfeit because she had given it away freely, but slowly the pieces were being reassembled.

In that moment, her broken heart started beating again.


	16. Pain and Pleasure

Charlie seated himself in the oversized leather chair behind the imposing wood desk and stared out the window of his newly acquired corner office on the twenty-eighth floor of a nondescript glass and steel structure downtown. His eyes swept over the silhouettes of the surrounding skyscrapers and rested for a moment on the dark ominous obelisk which had once been the headquarters of Saki Enterprises.

It stood empty, the leader of the Foot being forced underground sometime during the past year. His businesses drew far too much attention from the local authorities and, with a group of vigilantes sabotaging his supply lines and unraveling deals months in the making, Charlie wasn't surprised Saki had been compelled to withdraw. But like all great tacticians, his retreat was strategic and Saki Enterprises was being reborn even now under the newly incorporated name of Vallen Industries.

Vallen had seized Charlie's assets, but left him titular control of his own company. Which was good because it gave him the cover he needed to establish an office here in the city and begin his search for the girl.

He glanced up as his current assistant waved at him through the glass wall separating his private area from the remainder of the rental suite and he beckoned her in. Julia patted her hair into place and strode confidently into his presence.

She was pretty, if perhaps a little too tall for his taste. But what she lacked in attraction she made up for in efficiency and ruthlessness. Her head for problem solving and business made his life a whole lot easier. She wasn't nearly as good at it as Morgan had been but, he sighed, that type of perfection one only found once in a lifetime.

Besides, Morgan didn't have a ruthless bone in her body. He should know, he'd broken most of them at one time or another. He smiled at the memories, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.

When he decided this trip was going to become a hunt for the elusive girl, he ordered Julia out on the next red-eye flight, but you'd never know she was on a plane all night from her professional demeanor. She flitted around the office setting up everything to his precise requirements, contacting his associates and coordinating the meetings he requested.

She clicked her way over to his side in her kitten heels, set a laptop in front of him, and handed him a sheaf of papers before taking a seat on his desk and crossing her legs and showing off a generous amount of thigh.

"We have contracts in place with 13 gangs here in the city," she said without preamble. "From there the word will spread through the rest. Your bounty on the girl has been common knowledge here since before Christmas and a low level member of the Dragon's reported seeing her during a raid, but she somehow slipped through their fingers."

Charlie nodded, his suspicions Morgan was hiding out here somewhere in this rat's nest of a city were confirmed and it was time to flush her out.

"Hun was surprised to hear you were here," Julia continued, "And has requested a personal meeting. I put him in the four o'clock slot right after the police commissioner."

"Fine, but I think, due to the time constraints, we're going to need to up the stakes to get Miss Jennings' attention. Have our associates back home pick up Samantha Ryan. I want her here ASAP."

His assistant gave a sharp nod and hopped off his desk, clicking her way to the door with a swish of her hips.

"And Julia?" he called after her, "Get this office carpeted. You know I can't stand the noise."

He glared at her feet and the girl flushed. Charlie smirked and turned on the laptop as she hurried out. It was always best to keep the help on it's toes.

* * *

Raphael's fists pounded into the heavy punching bag in front of him in a rhythmic pace matching the beat of his pulse. His right stung, the knuckles protesting the extra beating after their unfortunate encounter with the concrete earlier, but he ignored them, letting the familiar exertion lull him into a calmer state.

The blood pumping through his veins had returned to normal after the startling experience with Morgan this morning, but he felt curiously deflated; unsatisfied. Even the excruciating pace of his workout could not push his pulse back into that realm of physical ecstasy.

The loss of fire and ice left him with an unquenchable craving. One doubled by the fact she left his sight and did not return.

Oh, he was all too aware of her location. He didn't think there was anywhere in the lair she could hide from him. Not now he knew her scent. Unlike the other sensations, his intensified sense of smell endured, at least in regards to her.

After she showered, it was worse. The heat and steam magnified her essence and, even though she retreated to her room, her presence lingered like a ghost. Her natural perfume wafting through the air and tempting him in ways he couldn't even imagine.

Now she sat with Michelangelo in front of the television. They were binge watching some sci-fi program and Mikey was entertaining her by defining all the characters. For once he was glad of his little brother's ability to distract. Mikey kept her busy in a casual way allowing her to adjust gradually to their home.

Raph kept a distant eye on the proceedings as the family drifted in and out, exchanging small talk with her, giving her a chance to become familiar with them as well as her surroundings. It was so well choreographed, he began to wonder if Leonardo was behind it. It had all the earmarks of one of his superbly planned campaigns.

However, the angel had not sought him out, so he held to his promise to stay out of her way. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Afternoon drifted toward evening and he remained secluded, not daring to leave the gym or dojo. Knowing the moment he did so, he would have no choice but to be by her side, whether she willed it or no.

The moment darkness fell, he was planning to escape. She would be safe in the lair, surrounded by his brothers, and he could take a break, meet with Casey, and run along the rooftops where the fresh air would clear his mind of her fragrance.

Until then, he was working through his most complicated set of solo practice katas. Distracting himself and deliberately facing away from the door into the lair's main room.

Abruptly, his bubble of concentration collapsed.

Desire overwhelmed him and he spun to find the object of his affection standing in the doorway.

 _God, could she get any more beautiful?_

Morgan was gorgeous in a laid back kind of way. Slim indigo jeans hugged her curves and a soft cobalt v-necked t-shirt made her pale skin look radiant. His eyes flicked over her, noting small details he hadn't realized before.

The tiny turtle pendant with the ruby eyes winked at him from a delicate chain around her neck, small chestnut freckles speckled her upper arms, her ears were ever so slightly pointed on the tips where they peeked through her curls, and masses of hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders.

He locked himself in place, denying the nearly overpowering urge to sweep her up and carry her off to who knows where. His breathing, already heavy from exertion, became labored.

"Raphael? Is everything ok? You've been in here all day."

He stared at her face, his eyes hot, wondering if she had any idea what she was doing to him. As the silence stretched, a light flush began at her neck and crept slowly up over her cheeks.

"I understand if you don't want to talk to me," she whispered when he didn't answer. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak out on you this morning."

He blinked at her, confused. She didn't owe him an apology. He was the one who messed up. He cleared his throat roughly as she turned to go.

"It was my fault. I should have thought-"

She shook her head, her pretty brunette curls distracting him as they bounced around her face. One didn't make it back to it's proper place, dangling down carelessly across her eyes and his fingers itched to move it back.

"This is your home," she said, "You shouldn't have to change your ways because of a temporary inconvenience."

Every muscle in his body tensed and he began to sidle closer to her in the same way he would approach a wild animal he was afraid would startle. Stealthily. His feet gliding across the floor with no sound.

"Temporary?" he asked.

"Well," she said, a little catch in her voice, "I don't want to impose. If Charlie stays too long, I suppose I'll have to leave. Keep running. Settle in another city."

He stopped and closed his eyes as a tidal wave of pain swept through him at the thought. She hadn't committed to any sort of timeframe with them, but he didn't like the fact she was thinking about moving on already.

"Do you wanna go?" The question burst from his lips, his voice harsh with desperation and perceived rejection. He hadn't meant to ask, but it escaped before he could stop it.

Silence.

Now he'd done it, there was no way to take the question back. It revealed far too much of his own desire and probably scared her to death. She'd only just escaped an abusive relationship and now something that terrified her and wasn't even human was hitting on her.

With agonizing slowness he raised his eyelids, certain she was gone; fled to the safety of her room or somewhere elsewhere in the lair. To his astonishment, she stood directly in front of him. Closer than the night before. Her face tilted up toward his. His heart began to pound as her sweet breath crossed his face.

"I'd like a reason to stay," she said.

Her voice was so soft he barely heard it over his own accelerated breathing. She raised her right hand tentatively to his face and lightly traced the shape of his brows, trying to determine the effect of her words. When he didn't object, she let her palm slip down to cradle his cheek. He shivered under her touch and reached up, taking her wrist in his hand.

"Morgan, I-"

She gasped and flinched out of his grip, pulling her arm close across her chest with her other hand, but she didn't retreat.

"Morgan! What is it?"

In front of his eyes, her perfect skin wavered and revealed the layers of bruises underneath. She had hidden them and he had totally forgotten. Cursing himself, he reached for her wrist again- extremely carefully. She didn't object to his gentle touch as he extended her arm to examine it.

Keeping her right hand in a delicate grasp, he stretched his left toward her face and cupped her undamaged cheek, tilting her head to the light so he could see the bruise under her right eye.

"Why do you keep hiding them?" he demanded.

"No one needs to be reminded of my stupidity," she murmured, turning her face from his hand toward the floor, "and this way nobody needs to feel sorry for me."

He grunted and she turned back to him.

"What?" she asked.

"It's like talking to myself," he muttered. "Come on, Sweetheart. Donnie needs to have a look at this."

She started at the endearment and blushed, hesitating for a moment, but eventually she gave in as he drew her toward the door. He didn't release her hand, keeping a light grip on it as he guided her across the lair to Donatello's lab. He knocked on the door frame before stepping inside.

"Don?" He called. "Ya think you could check Morgan's wrist for me?"

Donatello raised his head from a microscope on the other side of the room and smiled. "Sure Raph, I'll be over in a sec."

Morgan bit her lower lip nervously and tried to surreptitiously pull her hand away. "I don't want to bother him," she said in a low voice. "I'm sure he has better things to do than worry about me."

Raph frowned tightening his grip ever so slightly. "I ain't lettin go until he's had a chance to look at it. I hardly touched you before and it hurt. There's something more going on than a simple sprain."

Donnie came over slowly, his eyes flicking from Morgan's face to where his brother held her hand.

"Hi Morgan," he said in a smooth, quiet voice. "So, your wrist is hurting?"

"Hi," she said with a shy little wave. "A little. It's not too bad."

Raphael hrumphed over her shoulder.

"May I examine it?" Don asked.

She shrank back slightly but eventually gave a short nod and Raph released her as she extended her arm. Donnie smoothed his sensitive hands over the affected area, noting the increase in swelling and cautiously probing the small bones of her wrist.

"Tell me if this hurts," he instructed, flexing the joint a small amount in each direction. The girl hissed the moment he tried to move it.

"Sorry," he apologized, ducking away from Raph's black glare. "I need to take an x-ray, Morgan. Would that be ok?"

"You have equipment down here?" she asked, amazed.

"We have shit most doctor's have never heard of," Raph said dryly and Don laughed as he led them to another section at the back of the room.

"I deal with a lot of advanced, unusual scientists," Donnie said, "and together we come up with some pretty cool inventions, but this is your basic standard issue portable electronic imaging x-ray device, used by the military, and dentists, the world over."

He pulled a squarish camera-like white box attached to a swing arm from the wall and pointed it down at a nearby table.

"Morgan, if you could put your wrist here..." He guided her hand to the tabletop. "Perfect. Hold still."

He moved a several feet away to a computer and typed for a few seconds. "Oh, uh... Morgan," Don glanced at Raph before walking back over to lean in and whisper a question in her ear.

She blanched. "No," she said quickly as he backed away.

"Sorry, I had to ask." he muttered.

He fled to the computer and with a few clicks had captured an image of her bones. The second Morgan's face paled, Raphael stalked to his brother's side.

"What was that?" Raph asked with a quiet snarl.

"hmm?" He brother was studying the image on the screen, frowning.

"What did you say that freaked her out?"

"Oh, nothing. A safety question. But Raph we have a problem. Her wrist is more than sprained," Don said pointing to a large open gap in the x-ray. A space Raph assumed was not meant to be there. "The lunate is dislocated. The ligaments which keep it in place are torn."

"So, put it back."

Don sighed. "I'll need your help."

"My help?"

"It's going to hurt, Raph, a lot. I need you to hold her still."

"No way!" Raph said through clenched teeth. "I am not holding Morgan down while you hurt her. Can't you give her somethin' to stop the pain? Or wait a few days for the swelling to get better?"

"Waiting would be bad. All kinds of complications can occur if I don't put it back. Nearby nerves or major blood vessels in the area can be damaged. A hairline fracture could develop. Bone cells will start dying due to the interruption of the blood supply. The swelling won't get better because excessive blood will build up under the skin putting more pressure on the nerves. It's only going to get worse."

"Ok, OK! I get it, but why can you use painkillers?" Raph demanded.

"I have some local anesthetic I plan to give her, but it's weak. There are stronger pills for afterward, but they take time to work." Don shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry Raph. I don't see an easier way."

Though they were arguing quietly, Morgan interrupted with a sigh, holding her arm across her chest.

"I can hear you," she said. 'It's ok, Raphael, I am... familiar with pain." Her eyes clouded for a moment, but she turned to Donatello. "Where do you want to do this?"

"Let me get a few things together. Then we can work right over there on the table."

Donnie scurried off to gather materials for a splint and a sling as well as ice packs and pain meds. Raphael hovered at Morgan's side as she walked back to the table and struggled to get up on it.

He couldn't stand to watch her try for more than a moment. She was going to hurt herself even further.

"Here," he said and before she could protest, he wrapped his large hands around her waist and hoisted her up onto the surface. Curls tumbled around her face and she blushed but murmured a quiet thanks.

"I'm sorry."

He couldn't look at her, instead he braced a hand on either side of her tiny form and leaned against the table, his body instinctively trying to shield her from what he knew was coming. He lowered his head, closing his eyes.

"I don't think I can do this," he whispered.

"You don't have to hold me down," she said, her voice small and shaky, "Maybe instead you could just... hold me close?"

His head snapped up and he studied her intently. She was biting her lower lip again and her face held such an expression of pleading it magnified his heartache a thousand fold. He took her undamaged hand in his and squeezed it gently in answer. Brushing some of her wayward curls away from her face as his brother returned with the supplies.

Don wore a solemn, almost grim expression and Raph could tell he wasn't looking forward to this. He drew a measured dose of anesthetic into an empty syringe, tapped it to remove the bubbles, and took Morgan's right hand, injecting the nerve cluster above the dislocated bone.

The brothers exchanged a weighted glance as Don probed her injury to determine if the numbing agent had taken hold. When he nodded, Raph stepped in front of Morgan, positioning himself between her knees. She wrapped her good arm around his neck and he slid both his around her waist, pulling her tight against his plastron. She stuck her right hand out to Donnie and buried her face in the side of his neck, inhaling deeply.

Donatello stood next to his brother and took her wrist gently in both hands.

"Ready?" he asked, his mouth a grim line.

Raphael set his jaw and closed his eyes.

"Do it," he growled.

* * *

 _"Come on, Sweetheart. Donnie needs to have a look at this."_

Those were words she did not want to hear, but it seemed she had no choice. She shivered as Raphael led her by the hand from the dojo, where he spent the day, to his brother's laboratory at the back of the lair.

Far too much of her life had been spent in the company of uncaring physicians. Mostly at the private clinic Charlie maintained on his premises. An entire staff of doctors and nurses were kept on call at all hours to treat the results of his 'experiments.' They were well compensated to offer treatment without question, and their dispassionate, detached remarks on the condition of Morgan and her fellow 'patients' made her feel ill.

Not surprisingly, doctors terrified her. Even the smell of antiseptic was enough to trigger a panic attack. Though she didn't think Donatello fell in that category, he was close enough to make her thoroughly afraid. Still, she followed Raphael docilely through the lair, almost hypnotized by the strength of his scent and the soothing way his thumb caressed her palm.

Far too soon, they arrived. Mikey had shown her the door on his tour, but they hadn't gone inside. He'd said it was too dangerous without Don present. She wasn't certain what she was expecting. Perhaps some mad scientist type of sterilized room full of stainless steel and bubbling experiments.

The reality was a hodge podge of mismatched furnishings; wood tables, recliners, and shelves covered with more doodads than should fit in the crowded space. It was almost cozy. Donatello was in the back, humming to himself and she began to relax. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Still she made a last ditch effort to get out of it.

"I don't want to bother him," she said in a low voice. "I'm sure he has better things to do than worry about me."

As she expected, Raphael was having none of it.

"I ain't lettin go until he's had a chance to look at it. I hardly touched you before and it hurt. There's something more going on than a simple sprain."

He said it somewhat harshly, but the small circles his thumb was still making absently on her palm gave lie to his tone. He was obviously worried about it. Did she dare hope it was because he cared about her?

She wished she hadn't interrupted him in the dojo, but the pain in her wrist when he touched her had been intense. Still, he'd called her 'sweetheart' and insisted she seek medical attention. Surely that meant something. She couldn't be the only one feeling this magnetic attraction.

Donatello approached her slowly, allowing her time to adjust, and greeted her warmly. She gave him a shy little wave and deflected his concerned questions. It was an automatic response, drilled into her so thoroughly she didn't realize how silly it sounded until Raphael snorted behind her.

"May I examine it?"

Donatello's voice was so kind, she only flinched slightly before extending her arm. He was extra gentle with her, smoothing his fingers delicately over her skin and though she gasped as he flexed it, overall, it was the best medical experience she'd had in years.

"I need to take an x-ray, Morgan. Would that be ok?" Donatello asked courteously.

Surprised, she nodded. No one had asked for her consent for anything in so long, it felt odd to be giving it. He led them to the back of the room and she waited as he began the far too familiar process. She'd had far too many x-rays. She started when Donatello called her name and appeared again at her side. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I know this is personal, but I have to ask, because the x-rays could cause damage ..." he paused to take a deep breath, "Morgan could you be pregnant?"

Pregnant? By Charlie? The idea was so repugnant her body chilled as all the blood drained from her face. Not that Charlie would ever have allowed such a thing.

"No!" she said.

"Sorry, I had to ask," Donatello muttered, backing away.

Her shock and horror faded as she realized the compassion and kindness it took for him to ask. Whispering the way he did implied he understood she wouldn't want Raphael to hear such a question. Yet he didn't simply assume she wasn't pregnant. Or that if she was, she wouldn't be concerned about the possible harm from the x-rays.

Donatello was admirable, far more human than most humans she knew. In the last 10 minutes he'd treated her with more respect and competent skill than the numerous 'professionals' she'd seen, even after she escaped, so when she heard the low voiced argument begin she didn't immediately panic.

"No way!" Raph said through clenched teeth. "I am not holding Morgan down while you hurt her!"

Her heart skipped a beat. Both because she was suddenly afraid of what Donatello was saying and because Raphael was defending her so passionately.

"I'm sorry Raph. I don't see an easier way."

Raphael was not about to back down. She could hear it in his voice, but her new confidence in his brother's competence gave her the courage to interrupt. Certain he would have offered a different solution if one were available.

'It's ok, Raphael," she said with a sigh as she joined them. "I am... familiar with pain." She tried to put on a brave front, turning to Donatello. "Where do you want to do this?"

"Let me get a few things together. Then we can work right over there on the table."

Donatello hurried away and she walked back to the table. She attempted to climb up and sit but, with one injured hand, it was difficult. Raphael only waited a second before he reached out to help. His large hand span wrapped almost completely around her tiny waist and she blushed as he lifted her easily.

"Thanks," she said, tilting her head away, shyly. Curls tickled her face and she shook her head, annoyed with their disobedience.

"I'm sorry."

Raphael's deep voiced apology was unexpected and her breath caught as he moved closer, bracing his arms around her.

"I don't think I can do this," he whispered.

Her blood chilled. He wouldn't leave her now, would he? She needed his strength if she was going to get through this without breaking down!

"You don't have to hold me down. Maybe instead you could just... hold me close?" she begged.

His head snapped up and she felt his intense stare boring into her face. She bit her lip, hoping he wasn't about to refuse her and leave. Instead, he took her hand and squeezed it softly. She closed her eyes, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Her pulse started pounding in her ears as he moved closer and brushed some of her wayward curls out of her face. It might have gone further as she tensed and leaned into his caress, but his brother returned, drawing fear to the forefront of her mind.

Donatello said nothing as he efficiently gave her a shot of anesthetic and they waited in tense silence for it to take effect. After a while, his brother must have given some sign for Raphael shifted in front of her, signaling they were about to begin.

With a small gasp of terror, she wrapped her good arm around his neck.

He slid both his arms around her waist and nothing in her life had ever felt so marvelously comforting. After Charlie's abuse, she couldn't ever imagine wanting someone to hold her again. She'd sworn off romance and avoided men, but this felt so right she practically melted against him. He pulled her tight against his front, his hands and arms shifting to hold her as close as possible.

Under other circumstances, she might have fought the feeling, but she was too scared to do anything but cling desperately to him. She had just enough presence of mind left to give her right hand to Donatello, before she buried her face in the side of Raphael's neck, inhaling his scent deeply.

The kind turtle took her wrist gently in both hands and asked, "Ready?"

She felt Raphael tense and set his jaw. She closed her eyes.

"Do it," Raph growled.

The pain was incredible, but she'd survived worse. At least this time, she wasn't bound and helpless. No, this time she was with someone who cared. She whimpered and bit her lip through; doing everything in her power to control herself and NOT jerk her hand from Donatello's grasp.

She screamed only once, muffling her cry as best she could and Raphael tightened his embrace.

Finally, it was simply too much and she collapsed against him, unconscious.

* * *

As the sun sank below the tops of the city's skyscrapers, a shabby little man crept warily into the shadows of an overpass in the middle of the Purple Dragon's turf. Like many of the homeless, he sported a scraggly beard of several days growth and dirty clothes. But unlike the other unwashed bodies who huddled around fires in metal trash bins for warmth and tried to support each other, this man sat alone.

He wrapped skinny arms around his chest and plotted. Someway, somehow, he was going to get back at the little bitch. She thought she was so good. Too good for him. She sent those thugs to frighten him off and destroy his home. He hadn't thought she'd had the resources to hire such muscle, but he'd been mistaken.

It never crossed his mind they'd done it for free.

He touched the dirty gauze around his upper arm and snorted a laugh. She'd be sorry. He was going to see to it she got the same treatment. Or worse.

The others sharing his scant shelter stared askance at the madman muttering and laughing to himself. His kind drew trouble. Either from the authorities or the gangs, so when a group of Dragon's showed up, passing around a photo, most of them scattered.

"Hey Chuckles," a punk said, smacking him on the arm to get his attention. "You ever see this girl before?"

Frowning, the man rubbed the spot and glared at the young man, but his eyes narrowed as he focused on the photograph.

"Oh, this is too good," he cackled again. "I most certainly have. That's Emma Hammerstein."

The punks eyes lit up, "That's great, Chuckles. Where does she live?"

The dirty man shook his head. "Roman."

"What?"

"My name. It's Roman."

"Well, Roman," the punk sneered, "Do you or don't you know where she lives?"

"I don't."

The Dragon balled up a fist. Before he could let it fly, Roman spoke again.

"But I can tell you where she works..."


	17. Recovery

**Recovery**

Raphael knelt in silence on what was rapidly becoming his accustomed seat at the back of Morgan's room struggling with a riot of emotions. His thoughts were racing, his heart pounding and his hands clenched where they rested on his knees. He twitched and flinched at every noise from outside the door.

He needed to run, find a battle, smash some dirtbag into the pavement, SOMETHING to relieve this unbearable tension. Yet he couldn't leave her. Not until she woke and he could be sure she knew where she was and remembered what had happened. She didn't deserve to wake up scared and alone.

Michelangelo's voice shouted something beyond the door, and Raph jolted to his feet before he regained control and sat down again. He had to calm down before he hurt someone. He closed his eyes, but that only made him more aware of everything going on around him.

 _Just breathe._

The gentle voice, her voice, was so clear in his mind, his eyes snapped open to see if the angel was awake, but she lay motionless on the bed; her eyes still squinched shut, her face pinched with pain.

Again he closed his eyes and her quiet voice echo through his thoughts. He cocked his head and focused on her steady inhale and exhale, slowly bringing his respiration in line with hers. His pulse calmed and his mind began to clear.

This hadn't been his most sterling day.

This morning he had scared the angel, suffered through her absence all day, and forced her into a painful treatment this evening. He wouldn't be surprised if, when she woke, she demanded to return to the surface despite the danger.

But scattered moments of hope filled the day as well. April told him she asked about him at breakfast and for a few seconds in the dojo, right before he ruined everything, she begged him for a reason to stay, though perhaps he only heard what he wished to hear.

He shook his head. If that were the case, she would not have asked him to comfort her during the procedure. She shocked him, pleading like she thought he might refuse. How could he when she asked him like that? Like he was the only one in the world who could make it bearable?

He hadn't been able to come up with words to answer her. To tell her what her simple request had done to him. The fire and ice returned, coursing through his veins, as he squeezed her hand and lightly brushed a few stray curls away from her face.

She shivered at his brief caress. Could she possibly share some inkling of his desire?

She leaned in, tilting her face toward him until their lips were mere inches apart. He held his breath. He had to be misinterpreting the signs. She couldn't mean to kiss him, he wasn't even human! But he would never know, because Donatello returned and she pulled back with a slight flush on her cheeks. Her eyes widened in fear and the moment passed.

Dread pooled in his stomach as Don administered the numbing agent, and when his brother nodded, Raph steeled himself and stepped in close to the girl. He jerked when she threw her arm around his neck as a shock like the voltage from a live wire shot through his form. His arms automatically closed around her waist.

She was fragile under his hands, like spun glass, infinitely beautiful yet so breakable. But unlike that brittle substance she was soft and warm against his plastron. When he shifted his hands further up her back, she became pliable in a way he never imagined a human body could, molding herself around his hard contours.

It was the most exquisite thing he had ever experienced.

When she nuzzled her face into his neck, he flushed. He'd never held someone like this. It was terribly intimate and with his brother standing right next to him, he felt naked; exposed. But he had a job to do and he knew this glorious moment was about to turn ugly.

He clenched his jaw as Don began.

She was so brave. At first, she simply tensed, shuddering in his powerful grip, but eventually small cries of pain and soft sobs escaped from her. She tried to muffle them and never once did she jerk her hand from Donatello's grasp.

The choked sounds tore at his heart and he attempted to soothe her with quiet murmurs.

"Hang on, angel, it'll be over soon," he said low in her ear, not even sure if she was aware of anything now but the pain.

Raphael clutched Morgan closer to his chest as she cried out against his shoulder. Her hot tears dampened his neck, dripping down his plastron. He ground his teeth, trying to hold on to his sanity as the tormented angel shuddered and writhed in his arms.

Never in his life had he been so conflicted. He wanted to turn and utterly destroy Don for making his beloved cry out though he knew it was not his brother's intention. At the same time, he was extremely grateful for Donnie's experience and resolve. Without his treatment, this could get so much worse.

Under Donatello's skilled hands, the procedure didn't take long, but to Raph it felt like hours before the displaced bone dropped back into position with an audible snap. Morgan screamed and then went absolutely limp in his grasp.

"Morgan!" he shouted.

She didn't respond, but Donnie laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It's ok, Raph," he said, "She's fainted. Go ahead and lay her down. Get a couple of those ice packs and sandwich her wrist between them while I get another x-ray to make sure the bone's in place."

He disentangled himself from her and pulled back, supporting her carefully in his arms, but gasped as he examined her face. Her eyes were closed and blood ran in a small stream from her slack lips. Horrified, he glanced down to see red staining his plastron. Without thinking, he snatched up her legs in his other arm and spun, looking for Don.

"Donnie!" the fear in his cry made his brother race back to his side. "She's bleeding!"

Don's eyes widened as his gaze took in the blood covered Raphael. Morgan's head hung back over his brother's arm and the red liquid ran down her cheek and over her neck, dripping on the lab floor. Donnie snatched some sterile gauze from his supplies and began to wipe at it seeking the source before he sighed.

"It's OK," Don said, enunciating every word clearly to make sure he was getting through Raph's panic. "She bit herself. It's still bleeding, but it's minor."

Raphael's posture sagged in relief before jerking upright again as Leonardo burst through the door in answer to Morgan's scream. Leo skidded to a halt, sword in hand as his steely eyes flicked over the frozen tableau in front of him; Raph's blood stained shell, the limp girl half supported in his arms, and Donnie's handful of soaked red gauze.

Abruptly he sheathed his weapon and turned to Donatello.

"What do you need?" he asked in concern.

"Soap, hot water, wash clothes, ointment and bandages from the medkit. Pretty sure everything else is right here." Don said.

Leo turned with a sharp nod. If Don was only requesting cleaning supplies, the situation couldn't be as bad as it looked. He hurried out again. Raphael stood unmoving, staring at Morgan's slack face in consternation. Despite his best efforts to keep her safe, here she was bleeding in his arms.

"Raph?" Don said, putting out a hand to get his attention, "You can put her down now."

He growled and twitched away from his brother, moving the girl out of reach. Their eyes met; his intense and hooded, Don's clear and concerned. Eventually, he nodded and walked ever so carefully back to the table, lowering Morgan to the surface.

Leonardo came back in, handing him a wet cloth for his chest, but he immediately turned and began to wipe the blood off Morgan instead. Leo leaned over to help, but Raph's hand shot out, lightning fast, and stopped him.

"Don't touch her," he snarled without even looking up. He'd promised. Given his word no one would without her consent, especially when she wasn't awake to give it.

His brother took one look at his face and nodded, backing away. Now was definitely not the time to get between him and the girl. Instead, Leo turned without a word and began to mop up the blood from the floor...

Raphael jolted from his memories and his eyes snapped open as Morgan stirred. A soft moan escaped her lips and he hurried to her side. Wanting to be close, but not daring to touch her, he knelt by the edge of the bed.

"Morgan, sweetheart, can ya hear me?" he asked.

* * *

The alley was narrow and stank to high heaven, but that wasn't what petrified Morgan. What scared her silly was the group of absolutely silent men who lingered at the end of it. The Foot Clan had found her. She turned and ran, hoping to make it to the other exit before they noticed her but a second set dropped down behind, cutting off her escape.

Morgan cowered where she stood in the center of the space as the men parted and a presence she never wanted to sense again pushed his way to the fore. Charlie's aura was a black glow full of putrid swirling garbage. Mentally he stank worse than the trash bins in the alley surrounding her and she gagged helplessly as he approached.

"There you are, my dear," Charlie said, a smiling lilt to his voice. "It's been a merry chase but it's all over now. Time to face the music and come back to me."

Charlie was never more dangerous than when he was smiling. She shivered in pure terror as he came close enough to touch.

 _Where was Raphael? Or his brothers?_

They had promised her protection from this evil; safety.

She turned her face to the sky, seeking their unique aural signatures along the tops of the surrounding buildings, but there was nothing. A cold chill crept down her spine and fear twisted snake-like through her veins.

Charlie reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to face him. His fingers clenched viselike on her cheeks and her jaw began to ache fiercely. Pain flared as he ran his thumb brutally across her lips, drawing blood as he pressed them against her teeth.

The hot, salty flavor filled her mouth and she whimpered, trying to turn her head away, stalling for time. Surely Raphael was on his way. He wouldn't leave her like this, alone and unprotected. He promised Charlie would never touch her again.

As he released her, her face again shot upward vainly searching for any sign of her protectors.

"Raphael, where are you?" she whispered to the empty sky.

"Who are you waiting for, Morgan?" Charlie asked. "A monster in a mask perhaps?"

His maniacal laugh echoed down the alleyway as two of the silent men came forward dragging something large and heavy between them. Whatever it was made a horrible sound, part hard grating, part soft tearing as they scraped it carelessly across the pavement. She gasped as they dropped their burden at her feet.

An unmistakable scent; smoky, spicy and tinged with copper, rose from the still form.

"No!" She cried out and stretched her senses along with her hand toward him, but though her fingers touched a familiar hardness, Raphael's aura was startlingly absent.

"No one is coming for you," Charlie said with glee. "We took care of your guardian, and his whole clan."

She ran a hand gently over the shell in front of her, tracing the surface; his every curve and all his unique scars. Tears poured down her cheeks and a choking sobbed ripped it's way from her chest as her hand came away coated in thick liquid. His blood.

It was cold.

"NO!" she shrieked, turning to strike at Charlie with all the strength she could summon.

He caught her hand, stopping the blow easily.

"You did this, Morgan," Charlie said. "I warned you what would happen if you disobeyed me; Your family, your friends, anyone you loved, would suffer. His death, and all the others, are on you."

And with an evil grin his hand clamped on her injured wrist and twisted.

Morgan shot upright in bed, fighting and clawing against the hands trying to restrain her despite the tremendous pain it caused. Something forced her back and pinned her right arm to the mattress, holding it immobile.

She fought harder as she realized that same someone straddled her waist, keeping her body motionless. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she moaned out,

"Raphael, No! You can't be gone..."

A huge hand engulfed the uninjured side of her face, a thumb gently caressed her cheek, and a rough, deep voice answered her.

"Hush... Angel, I'm right here."

She stilled, hardly believing her senses. He had released her left hand to cup her face so she raised it to touch his. His aura shone strongly above her and her fingers rested lightly for a few seconds over the pulse in his throat before she reached back up to his face. His brows were drawn together in concern and his mouth turned down in a serious frown.

"Morgan," he breathed as he leaned in close to check her face in the dark room. "Are you awa-"

She cut him off as she raised her head from the pillow and fastened her lips on his. He tensed and tried to draw back, but her left arm snaked around his neck pulling him to her. His hand on her cheek slid away to support himself as he surrendered to her demands and kissed her in return.

A moment later, he released her right hand and buried both of his into her hair, his mouth devouring hers. With pure core strength he sat up, not breaking the kiss but drawing her gently upright with him.

She moaned as he deepened the kiss and held her close, his body shuddering in response. Deep in his chest a low rumbling began. It wasn't the menacing growl she'd heard from him before, it was more like the purr of a lion, predatory and possessive. She could feel the vibrations thrumming through his natural armor and her body responded.

Endorphins flooded her bloodstream as the sound and vibration overwhelmed her. She heard nothing but him, felt nothing but his hands tangled in her hair, his lips on hers. The very air in her lungs began to resonate in response as her skin tingled and her stomach clenched in desire.

Need so strong it frightened her.

Gasping, she broke the kiss and drew back panting, but she didn't go far. She rested her forehead against his and listened as his own frantic breathing slowly calmed- taking the glorious sound with it.

"Morgan," he whispered, trying to draw away. "I-"

She set a finger on his lips to silence him and leaned forward even more to wrap her arms around his middle. Her hands caressed his shell as she laid her ear over his heart. His heartbeat was strong and comforting, as were his arms when they rapidly wrapped around her, holding her close.

She sighed deeply, releasing the last of her panic and tension as he raised a hand to stroke through her hair. When her trembling ceased he released her, shifting off her lap and retreating to the floor next to her bed.

"I'm sorry I scared ya," Raphael said. "You were asleep but clawing at the brace Don put on ya, and I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself."

Flustered he looked away. What had all that meant to her? He had simply been trying to protect her at first, but when she kissed him, he had responded with all his being. He flushed to think of how quickly the mating call had been roused within him.

This time he knew she felt it. Her scent changed, deepening to one of arousal and desire, yet she broke away, leaving him confused. He wanted to respect her wishes, so he forced his breathing to calm and tried to extract himself, but instead she drew him closer, pressing her cheek to his plastron.

Uncertain what to do, he held her, stroking her hair until she calmed. Afterward, he hadn't wanted to move, but he compelled himself to leave the bed. Now he stared at her face, trying to decipher her feelings. If the kiss was simply a panicked reaction to her dream he should not try to pursue her.

On the other hand, if she did want to be with him- he didn't want to waste a moment, because what if she came to her senses and pushed him away? This was going to be hard to say, but if he didn't ask, he was going to regret it forever.

"Morgan, I don't know much about women, and I don't want to take advantage of you, of the situation... so I have to ask. Would you, could you even consider dating someone like me?"

She froze and the question hung in the air between them. He tensed as the silence went on. It must have been the dream after all. How could he be so stupid as to think an angel like her would want a freak like him? He closed his eyes as a wash of pain spread over him.

A gentle caress on his plastron startled him and stopped the agony in it's tracks. His eyes snapped open. She had leaned up to one side and was gently tracing the outlines of the plates on his front. His heart sped, pounding against his ribs.

"What was... that sound?" she asked, not answering his question but continuing to stroke him.

He flushed. She would want to know about that. How could he explain? No matter what he said it was gonna be embarrassing.

"Uh, it's kind of an involuntary response to intense... stimulation. Don says it's part of our turtle heritage."

"Oh," she said, blushing. "So you do that when you find someone attractive?"

He might have agreed simply to save himself the embarrassment of further explanation and the possibility of rejection, but he wanted her to understand simple lust or attraction didn't trigger it.

It was obvious to him now, whether she cared for him or not, he loved this petite young woman and he wanted no one else. If she rejected him, he would carry on alone- protecting her as best he could from any and all threats against her, but he would never love another.

He reached for her cheek, thinking if she turned him away because of this, he might not get to touch her again. His thumb caressed her soft skin as he replied in a quiet voice.

"No. It's a special sort of sound, reserved for those closest to us."

"How many are that close to you?" she asked.

"Just one."

She shivered at his tone and reached her hand up to cover his. She turned her head, and placed a gentle kiss in his palm. His eyes widened as she faced him and with graceful simplicity said, "Yes."

For a moment, his heart and breathing stalled. "Yes?"

Her hand came up to measure his expression.

"Yes, I want to date you. I'm not sure if I can be what you deserve, Raphael," she cautioned. "Charlie..." her voice broke, but she continued determinedly on, "He conditioned me to respond in certain ways, and I don't know if I will be able to control it."

Her brow creased with suppressed pain and yearning.

"You might find my reactions... disturbing," she finished.

His face hardened and anger surged through him at the thought of all the terror and torment she suffered. Of the way that demon desecrated his angel, twisting her gentle desire to his will. If he had his way, Charlie was not going to live out the week.

He leaned in and stroked his cheek against hers in a soft caress.

"It doesn't matter," he murmured in her ear. "We'll work it out."

As he drew back, he was overcome with an extreme mix of emotions. It was odd to be elated yet angry, loving but full of fury. He wasn't sure what his next move should be. Should he vow vengeance and dash off to see if he could locate this Charlie before he skipped town? Or should he stay and comfort his beloved further?

Her pleading eyes made up his mind. She was exhausted and needed rest. If he stayed nearby she might get some sleep. Without a second thought he stood and shifted her to the back of the bed, crawling up to place himself protectively between her and the door. She settled into the crook of his arm, laying her head and injured wrist across his chest.

He held her tightly against him, humming softly under his breath; the vibration a gentle echo of his earlier desire, but no less potent.

In moments his angel was asleep.

Several hours later a quiet three beat, two beat tap alerted Raph that Donatello was outside, waiting to check on his patient. At Raph's muted rumble, Don entered and slid the screen shut behind him.

If he was surprised to find his older brother in the bed with the girl tucked carefully into his side, he showed no sign of it. He simply went about his business, checking her wrist and dragging a cooler full of icy water up next to the bed.

"What's that then?" Raph asked, as Don removed Morgan's brace and wrapped a blue and gray cuff around her injury. It had tubes coming out of it and he hooked them up to another set of hoses connected to the ice water.

"It's a cold therapy system," Don said. "It takes water from the cooler and pumps it up around her wrist to keep it at a constant cool temperature. The heat from the swelling transfers to the water and the pump pushes the warmed water out with fresh cold water. You change the ice every couple of hours and presto, infinite cold pack."

Raphael blinked at his brother. "Clever. One of your toys?"

"Nah, cold therapy machines have been used after major surgery for years," Don said. "I must admit, I've tweaked it a little though. If she gets too cold, you can turn it down with this dial. It slows the flow so it's not too much."

Raph nodded. "So how's it looking?"

"The last x-ray looked good. The bone's settled back in place. She'll need to wear the brace when she's moving about and any time the wrist is hot or swollen she needs to use the ice," Don said. "I'll be taking x-rays occasionally to check on it."

Raph nodded again.

"I didn't say it earlier, Don, but thank you," Raph said. "It weren't no picnic holding on to her but I know you didn't enjoy hurting her either."

Donatello smiled, the gentle expression softening his face. It was rare to get a 'thank you' or a 'sorry' out of his hot-headed brother. Usually they were lucky to get a decent grunt.

"You're welcome, Raph." His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized their positions on the bed. "So I take it things are going well?"

Raphael's blush covered his whole face and Donnie blinked in surprise. He'd never seen his big brother so discomfited before.

"She sleeps better when I'm nearby," he said and paused thinking there were some things he wanted to ask his genius brother and a few things he could tell him as well. "You remember way back when you were intent on given us all a biology lessons about our turtle heritage?"

Don nodded, thoughtfully.

"You recall the bit about the, uh, humming?"

Don thought back over all the information he gathered when they first started developing into adulthood and suffering from urges they couldn't explain. He'd compiled a list of human biological developments and mating rituals v.s. ones from the animal kingdom, specifically other reptiles and turtles like themselves, uncertain which parts of each would actually apply.

Over time, Don had executed a series of experiments trying to form a determinate list.

"I didn't think you guys paid much attention to my lectures," Donnie mused.

"Those were about sex, Don. They were probably the only ones we were all ears for," Raph said with a smirk.

"Yes, well," Donnie cleared his throat. "So what about it?"

"You can move it from your suspected list to the confirmed one."

Donnie's eyes grew round as saucers.

"I thought we ruled that one out, after Mikey's, uh, internet experiments."

"It don't have anything to do with lust or attraction, Don."

"Love?" Donatello breathed in question.

The longing in his brother's eyes surprised Raphael though on second thought it shouldn't have. They all had given up on the 'l' word a long time ago, at least as it applied in the romantic sense.

"There's something about her, Donnie. I can't get her out of my head. She's in my blood and my bones. I feel like I could take on the whole Foot Clan to protect her, but if anything happened to her... She's my greatest asset and my worst weakness all rolled into one."

Concern shaded Donatello's eyes at his declaration.

"I'm assuming you've ascertained how she feels?"

"You asking if she love's me back, Don?" Raph gave a little half smile and shook his head. "I don't know if it's love for her, but she did agree to date me. And," Raph raised his brows at his brother in question, "the humming set her off."

"Wait a minute... hold on..." Don held up a hand. "I want to make sure I have the sequence straight. She made you hum and it turned her on?"

Raph nodded. "She's worried, Don, about the things that bastard did to her. She's certain it's warped her in some way and I don't want her thinkin' being attracted to me is one of those things."

Donatello frowned, but he was getting the picture. "It's more likely because the vibrations give her another type of feedback to compensate for her lack of vision, but that's just a guess since her DNA is so weird anyway. She may be able to do all kinds of things normal humans can't and that will change the factors for physical attraction. I haven't been able to sort half of it yet. I might have to bring in some help."

"You mean like how she hides her bruises?"

Don's head had drifted down to rest against his chest and a finger tapped against his chin, but at this, his head snapped up.

"What are you talking about?"

"Her injuries. When she concentrates, she can hide them, make them disappear. Her skin looks normal, but if you touch her, it still hurts."

"Fascinating!"

He leaned in to peer at her bruises intently.

"Back off Don, you're makin me nervous," Raph growled.

"She can't do it when she's asleep?" Don asked, probing her arm.

"Donnie..." Raph's growl grew deeper and his brother backed up a step.

"Sorry. You think she'd show me later if I ask?"

Raph shrugged.

"Well, I guess her ability will help smooth things over tomorrow," Don said.

"Why?" Raphael was instantly on guard. "What's happening?"

"She has to go topside. Her Witness Protection agent set a meeting. She can't miss it if we don't want them to get suspicious of her supposed location at 'Amanda's'," Don replied.

"Damn. I knew Agent Moore was going to be trouble."


	18. Exposure

"Mmm..."

Morgan stretched drowsily, roused from deep slumber by a cool caress which began at her forehead and slid gently down the side of her face, brushing some random strands of her hair away. She inhaled deeply and smiled at the strength of his scent on the sheets and pillow, but when she reached across the mattress he wasn't there.

For one brief moment fear crossed her face.

"Hate to wake ya, sweetheart, but Donnie says ya need to take these pills," Raphael's deep voice rumbled from next to the bed.

A small shiver slid down her spine and her smile reappeared. Propping herself upright on her good arm, she discovered an extremely cold and slightly bulky apparatus on her injured wrist. She frowned, shifted her position, and ran her fingers over the cuff experimentally.

He saw her confused expression.

"It's to keep the swelling down," he said. "Is it too cold? I can change the setting."

She smiled again at his concern. No one cared about her comfort in so long, she was a little uncertain how to respond.

"It's fine," she said, shifting to the edge of the mattress. She dropped her feet to the floor and reached out for the meds.

He cupped one hand under hers setting two largish pills in her palm. She tossed them back and downed the glass of water he gave her. The necessities out of the way, she checked the time.

8:10 AM. She'd been asleep more than 12 hours. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

"What? Is something wrong?" Raphael said as fear once again flashed across her expression.

"I slept!"

"Well, yeah. You were hurt, ya needed rest; to recover."

"No! I mean, yes I was, but I never sleep like that," she said, shuddering. "It's too dangerous."

His large hands wrapped themselves around her shoulders and he crouched down to her level, his eyes boring into her face.

"You're safe here, sweetheart. You can rest as long as ya need. I won't let anything get at ya."

Safety, true peace and security. She hadn't experienced it in so long, she never expected to find such relief again. Tears began to sting her eyes and she turned her face from him.

"Hey," he took her chin gently in his hand and turned her back. "What's wrong?"

Before she could answer a sharp knock and Michelangelo's happy voice interrupted.

"Breakfast time!" he called. "I made waffles!"

She sniffed and quickly wiped her eyes.

"Thanks, Mikey!" she replied with faux brightness. "I'll be out in a sec. Let me get dressed."

Raphael frowned but didn't press her further as he helped her take off the cold cuff and put a stiff brace on her wrist. When he finished, he went to the door.

"I'll let you change. See ya at breakfast?"

His hopeful question made her smile shyly.

"Save me a seat."

* * *

Julia glanced up as her boss came storming through the glass front doors, his face black as a thundercloud. He strode swiftly past her desk, straight through to his office. Something must have happened last night to set him off. She sighed and straightened her impeccable, if short, gray skirt and tugged down on her blazer. Perhaps her news would put him in a better mood.

She followed him, her feet making no sound on the plush carpeting. Charlie threw himself into his desk chair and spun to face her, snapping, "Yes?"

She placed a steaming mug of gourmet coffee in front of him and smiled.

"Samantha Ryan arrived and is in place," she said. At her boss's sharp nod she continued, "The Dragon's found a witness." She consulted a notepad in her hand. "One, Roman Craven, who claims some information on the girl."

Charlie's frown disappeared and a sensual smile crossed his lips.

"I want to meet him right away."

"I'll have him brought up," Julia said and swished her way out front.

Charlie pushed back from his desk, set his feet nonchalantly on the top and waited for the 'witness' to arrive, savoring the moment. Morgan wouldn't escape him for much longer and he looked forward to at least one more session with her before he turned her over to Saki.

He started, however, when a rather disheveled man with a pinched and sneering face was ushered into his office a few minutes later. He doubted Morgan stooped so low as to associate with this type of trash, but he would wait to learn what the man might say.

He stared down his nose at the visitor, his sharp eyes noting the bandages on his arm and the uncomfortable limp as the man entered and took a seat.

"I understand, Roman," Charlie began in a genial tone, "you found the young woman I'm looking for?"

"Emma Hammerstein, yes."

The man's voice possessed a whiny, nasal, and faintly repulsive quality which disgusted Charlie. He frowned slightly at the weaselly little man.

"Names are not important. They can be changed at the drop of a hat. Describe her."

"Short, a ton of brown curly hair, hazel eyes."

"You'll have to do better than that. I'd net half the girls in the city with such a vague report."

Roman snorted.

"She's surprisingly graceful, has awful fashion sense, and a quick temper. She also has a holier than thou attitude and is blind as a bat, but you'd never know it to look at her."

Charlie sat up, dropping his feet to the floor and examined the man more closely. He was scruffy, hadn't shaved in a few days, and he desperately needed a shower, but under the dirt his clothes were good quality. It had been only recently this man fell on hard times.

"You have my attention," Charlie said, leaning forward in interest. "Where did you see her?"

"I sat across a desk from her for the past 6 months. She works the second shift for my old employer, Angel Automotive Insurance."

"I see," Charlie narrowed his eyes, "And why are you no longer employed?"

The man fidgeted in his chair and wouldn't meet Charlie's gaze.

"I'd rather not say," he mumbled at last.

Charlie smiled, showing all his gleaming teeth; a shark sensing blood in the water.

"Mr. Craven, I have offered a reward for information about this young woman, as I am sure you are aware, but I refuse to deal with those who are less than forthcoming. If your termination involves her and I discover it later, you will not like the consequences."

Roman's eyes darted to his injured arm before returning his gaze and Charlie scrutinized it. The bandage was a few days old at least, wrapped from his shoulder to his elbow, and blood seeped through in places. Morgan wouldn't injure this man under normal circumstances, but she might if he violated her training parameters.

"Tell me," Charlie said mildly, gazing out the window and tapping his chin as if he had only the slightest interest, "did you somehow anger Ms. Hammerstein?"

"We may have had a slight misunderstanding during a New Year's Party," Roman said through clenched teeth. "She sent me to the emergency room."

"I'm sorry you experienced that side of her, Mr. Craven. Most of the time she is a sweet tempered girl. What did she do?" Charlie asked. "She is my ward you see, and I feel responsible for her actions."

He smiled in a sincerely apologetic manner, but it was sharp and dangerous around the edges. Morgan's behavioral conditioning made her meek in her dealings with men unless they pushed her too far. Once triggered, she would retaliate and run.

Saki had requested this; the challenge of significant opposition and a chase in his bedmate. If she had lashed out at this despicable little man, he provoked the attack. Her response would tell him the severity of Roman's attempt.

"She bit me. Hard enough to draw blood, and shoved the heel of her shoe through my foot," Roman said, still outraged.

"I see." Charlie raised a brow and steepled his fingers before fixing the dirty little man in his chair with a knowing stare. "This was more than the kind of misunderstanding where one's hands venture where they do not belong. Perhaps you did something a little more serious."

"Look," Roman said, sweat beading up on his brow, "I didn't know she was anything special. I thought she was pretty and single, so yeah, I made a pass at her. She gave me attitude, so I showed her how a real man handles things when a woman talks back."

Charlie's face hardened and his smile became deadly. He made a small hand signal to Julia through the glass and she immediately picked up the phone.

"And the arm? Was it a misunderstanding with my ward as well?"

"Nah, some hired goon came after me later. Guess she wanted to make sure I stayed away."

"Is that so? Well, Morgan always did have good instincts."

"Morgan?"

"That will be all Mr. Craven. Thank you for being so forthcoming."

"Wait a minute, what about my money?"

"You will get your reward if and when the girl is recovered. Until then, I'm sure you will find our accommodations... interesting."

He waved a hand and a group of five high-level Dragon's in button-down shirts and dress slacks came through the door. Four escorted the loudly protesting Roman out. The last stayed for instructions.

"Good work locating the witness. If his information pans out we'll need an extractor and enough backup to handle possible bodyguards. Be ready to move by 3 pm," Charlie said.

"It'll be double the usual rate for a daytime snatch and grab," the Dragon warned.

Charlie raised a brow but shook his head.

"Whatever. Just tell your men to secure the girl no matter what it takes, but to keep their hands off once she's restrained. You don't want to cross the client she's intended for."

"And the weasel?"

"Make him... uncomfortable and keep him out of sight. As soon as we find the girl, dump him in the river," Charlie said with a sneer. "Nobody 'manhandles' Morgan but me."

* * *

Morgan felt much better walking into breakfast today. Yesterday she'd interacted with each of them a little and the more she learned of their personalities, the more comfortable she became, really starting to like them.

'Mikey' was the most outgoing. His exuberance and charm won her over almost immediately. He threw his heart and soul into everything he did, whether he was cooking, gaming, or simply distracting his more serious family members as needed.

As she entered the kitchen, Mikey whooped from his spot in front of the stove and dashed over to sweep her up in a spinning hug. He was very mindful of her injured arm and he held her carefully as he squeezed before setting her gently back on her feet.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" He greeted, ignoring the stifled growl from the table, as he ruffled her hair. "You hungry?"

She swatted playfully at him, a smile dancing about her lips. "Are skyscrapers tall? Do the sewers stink? Is New York overcrowded?" she answered rhetorically.

He laughed and raised a hand. She smacked her uninjured palm into his and they performed a complicated series of hand gestures before bumping fists.

At the table, Donatello and Leonardo exchanged a glance and Leo stifled a smile as Don said, "Maybe leaving her mostly with Mikey yesterday wasn't such a good idea."

"Good morning," Morgan greeted the rest of the table cheerfully.

"Good morning, Miss Jennings," Leo replied. "You seem in much better spirits today."

"I slept!" She announced like it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

She drifted over to Raphael and rested a hand lightly on his shoulder for a moment before taking a seat next to him. He flushed ever so slightly, but nobody seemed to notice as Michelangelo placed a plate of waffles in front of each of them and breakfast officially began.

"Miss Jennings," Leo said when they all finished eating and the others cleared the table, "There's something we need to discuss."

His voice was calm, controlled, and though that phrase normally set off warning bells, she was not afraid. Leonardo, she was learning, was grave and responsible, but his formal mode of address was a show of respect and not necessarily a sign she was in trouble.

As the oldest brother and leader of their military escapades, he carried the burden of responsibility for everyone in his household and despite their little clash on the rooftop, she was beginning to warm to him.

But she couldn't help a small shiver of trepidation as Raphael suddenly shifted uncomfortably beside her.

"Is something wrong?" She asked.

Leonardo stood and pressed a small device into her hand. She turned it over curiously.

"My cell phone?" She cocked her head to the side wondering what they discovered.

Donatello had taken it to deactivate any GPS tracking which might be installed, and after she learned their story she surrendered it without question. She did not want to lead anyone to their home, the one place they believed safe.

"We've been using it to maintain minimal communication with Agent Moore," Leo said. "Don has been texting your check in codes to him the past two nights, but it seems Mr. Moore is the suspicious type. Since none of his undercover's saw you in the last two days, he's set an in person meeting for today at 1pm."

Morgan stopped breathing for a second, but her heart started pounding as she grasped the problem right away.

"I need to go back up," she said, "and you can't protect me up there during the day, can you? You'll be seen."

She shook a little and Raphael reached for her hand under the table.

"I ain't gonna let you go alone," he said, with a glare at his older brother.

"We _can_ protect you, just not as easily," Leo replied, ignoring Raph's outburst. "There are ways for us to stay nearby."

As if on cue, Donatello returned and resumed his seat at the table.

"I've cloned your phone so I can use it as a microphone to hear everything going on around you, even if it's off. I've also fitted it with a tracking device only we can see." He smiled. "Don't leave this one in a cab, OK?"

"I knew there was something wrong with the other one! You tampered with it at April's didn't you?" she exclaimed.

"Guilty," he said. "How did you figure it out anyway?"

She shrugged. "It weighed more."

Don's eyes widened. "There's no way... The tech only weighs a few milligrams. Humans aren't that sensitive."

She smirked across the table at him as she replied, "Welcome to my weird little world, Donatello. I'm full of surprises."

He laughed; his warm, rich tenor easing some of her brittle fear.

Donatello, she noted, was kind. The gentlest of the four brothers, she wondered about his role during a battle. She knew he possessed intelligence, strength and an unbending will or he wouldn't have been able to treat her yesterday, but she couldn't imagine him wanting to hurt others without cause.

"Speaking of which," Don said, "Raph mentioned you had a way to camouflage your injuries?"

He couldn't hide the eagerness in his voice. Obviously he wanted to see. She arched a brow at him.

"Would you care for a demonstration?"

* * *

Morgan sat in the glass atrium of the federal building and tilted her face up to the sun. The weather outside had cleared for a time and though it was cold out there, the light streaming into the lobby warmed her bruised cheek. The only thing detracting from her peaceful moment was Martin pacing in front of her.

Each time his shadow fell across her she winced.

The outbound journey had gone smoothly enough. The guys let her change into more office casual type outfit and her overcoat before Raphael carried her back through the tunnels to "Amanda's" building. The trip went much more quickly in the mutant turtle's arms.

Perhaps because she was distracted by his scent and the powerful play of his muscles as he climbed, jumped, and ran. Or maybe it was the fact that every few minutes he pulled her closer and told her, no matter what, he had her back.

Whatever the reason, she was a little disappointed when they arrived so quickly, but at least she wasn't shaking in fear; until he left her in the sub-basement.

She shuddered a little as she ascended in the elevator by herself. They offered to call April back to escort her during the parts of the trip where they couldn't, but Morgan had flatly refused. April only just got home after three days of babysitting her. She could handle an elevator and cab ride alone.

But it was harder than she thought it should be, feeling the elevator lift her away from his aura. She had only been with him a short time, but Raphael was her rock and she didn't want to leave him.

Strangely, her sense of him remained. Though it became rather tenuous with multiple stories of building in the way, she never lost the sensation of him completely. As she waited out front for the concierge to flag her a taxi, she felt him moving under the pavement to an alley on a nearby side street where she assumed he was joining his brothers, as per the plan, in an unmarked cargo van.

Despite her tension, the cab ride was uneventful. The cabby wasn't particularly chatty and she didn't sense anyone untoward watching her. She could feel Raphael and the others a few car lengths away. She never noticed before how much stronger their signatures were than the average population, but she was grateful to know they were near.

The meeting was more of an argument. Martin wanted to know why she was deviating from her set routines and why she hadn't been to work. He wasn't very satisfied with her vague answers, but she wouldn't give him any more information.

He quizzed her about her injured wrist. She had hidden all the surface bruises, but Don wouldn't let her take off the large brace holding the bones in position, so she made up a story about falling down the stairs.

Now they were sitting in the lobby, meeting supposedly over, waiting for the car service he called to take her back. Though she could tell by the pacing and glaring he was extremely unsatisfied with the results. At least she had shown up so he knew she wasn't missing in action.

Her phone rang. Surprised, she and Martin listened as the number was read out aloud. It was her work and she rapidly answered bringing the receiver to her ear. The voice on the other end was one she'd never thought to hear again.

"Morgan?" A female whispered.

"Samantha?" Morgan practically fell over in disbelief. "Are you ok? Where are you?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing, sweetie. You disappeared and, and..." the voice choked up and started to cry.

"Shh. Sam, don't cry. I'm alright."

Morgan tilted her head to listen for Agent Moore, but he had moved back to the doors to check outside for her ride.

"Morgan," Sam said through her sniffles, "He's here and I think he knows you are too."

Morgan's breath caught and her blood chilled. It was one thing for Leonardo to tell her Charlie was landing at the local airport and another to hear it from her best friend. Her best friend who somehow tracked her across the country and was now in danger herself from the evil hunter.

"Sam are you at 'Angel'?" Morgan asked.

"Yes, the secretary here dialed your number."

"Stay put. I'll be right there."

* * *

"Um... Anyone else have a bad feeling about this?" Mikey whispered from the back of the van as Donatello hung up the phone. They had listened to Morgan's unexpected call and the sinking sensation seemed to be universal.

In front of them, she sprinted from the building and hailed a cab, not waiting any longer for the car service.

"Where does she work, Don?" Leo snapped, asking for the address so they could follow.

"I know," Raph said, moving up to give instructions.

"Hang on!" he called as Casey, their driver, took off from a stand still at the curb and headed through cross-town traffic, taking shortcuts through alleyways the van could barely scrape down. Despite Casey's knowledge of the back roads, they got stuck on a side street, crammed in between an aggressive group of taxi drivers and a stopped bus.

Raph growled low in his throat. He couldn't stay here while Morgan headed into who knows what. He swore to protect her no matter what!

"Raph, NO!" Leo yelled, but he was too late to stop the red-banded ninja from sliding over the front seat and slipping out the passenger door.

He stayed low, beneath the level of the car windows around him and using all his stealth, made it to the closest alley unseen.

* * *

It took a little while to get to her office, traffic was killer and Morgan was a bundle of nerves. What was Samantha doing here? She was more sensible than this. She was making herself a big fat target and she knew it! Why couldn't she stay blissfully unaware in California?

Morgan's anxiety rose and she couldn't take staying in the back of the cab one second longer.

"Pull over here," she told the cabby, "It's only a few more blocks. I'll walk."

She paid the man and dashed out of the car, practically running now in her haste to reach her friend. She was moving fast, head down as she crossed the last alley before her building when a familiar voice called her name.

"Hsst! Morgan!"

She veered toward the sound and ducked into the alley, passing a van parked in the entrance.

"Sam?" she said.

Too late she realized she should have checked for other people first. The moment she entered, a group of men jumped out of the vehicle. One grabbed her roughly by the shoulders.

"Sam, run!" Morgan shouted hoping her friend was free to get away as she stamped on the instep of the man holding her.

She wasn't wearing heels this time, but it still hurt. He let her go, cursing, but another rushed her from the front and tackled her. They rolled in the filth of the alley and Morgan used every dirty trick she knew to make the man release her. She struck out with her elbows and knees, hearing him grunt as some of her shots hit soft areas.

They weren't trying to strike her, she realized. Not a single punch came at her face, even though she was down on the ground. She could use that to her advantage. She rolled them forcefully toward the side of the alley, hoping to smash him against the wall. Instead, they ran into a pile of trash.

A full-length mirror balanced precariously on the top fell, crashing over them and breaking into deadly pieces. Most of them struck the man above her, but one sharp shard grazed her cheek marking her with a thin line of blood and pain. A second cut into the meat of her shoulder above her bicep, but it seemed her attacker bore the brunt of it. He didn't move so she rolled again, leaving him in the dirt.

As she scrambled away, she grabbed up a shard and ducked behind the nearest dumpster. She put her back to it and with a mighty heave pushed it toward the other men pursuing her. It moved slowly and they easily avoided it.

With a frustrated cry, she turned to run and smashed face first into the chest of an incredibly tall, strong man who dropped into the alley in front of her. The impact caused her to lose her only weapon; the glass shard shattering on the bricks at her feet.

He laughed, a deep gravelly roar and caught her up by the throat before she could fall to the pavement. He walked a few paces until her back slammed against the wall and held her there, feet dangling above the ground. She tried to scream, but only managed to produce a small squeak.

The man's grip tightened, dizziness overwhelmed her and she couldn't breathe. On instinct, she went limp hoping he might release her, but the giant began dragging her to the van still holding her neck. They were almost to the doors and Morgan was so out of it, she didn't think she could escape even if he let her go.

She had more than one reason to feel faint. The slice on her shoulder was deep and hot, wet blood was coursing down her arm, leaving a dark smear behind them in the debris of the alley. She was losing the last of her air and consciousness was about to follow when something huge dropped into the lane behind them.

"Filthy Dragon!" A harsh voice roared, "Let my girl go, right now, and I might let ya live."

The voice was so strained with fury, Morgan almost didn't recognize it, but his aura was unmistakable. A spasm of relief passed over her followed immediately by panic. Raphael was standing out in the open during the full light of day.

Weakly, she began to struggle again. She knew he wouldn't leave her to conceal himself, so she had to break free. But all she accomplished was using up her remaining breath.

The thug raised his arm and wind rushed by as she flew through the air before crashing to the floor of the van. The thug must have tossed her in because the last thing she heard were the double doors slamming shut.


	19. Waiting to Exhale

"Pull over here," Morgan's voice projected loudly through the speaker of the phone, "It's only a few more blocks. I'll walk."

"Dudes! She's almost there!" Michelangelo cried, nearly crushing the headrest of the seat in front of him. He gripped it tight in both hands to keep from grabbing his brothers and shaking some sense into them. They needed to move, now!

"Casey," Leonardo said roughly, "We're out of time. Break some laws."

"You got it!" Casey yelled and wrenched the wheel, pulling their van up on the sidewalk.

Luckily, few pedestrians used this side of the road cause Casey drove like a maniac, hopping curbs and crashing through whatever happened to be in their path. He spun the vehicle 90 degrees when they reached a cross street and pulled into traffic driving the wrong direction. Cars honked and scattered out of the way as he accelerated.

"We do want to make it alive!" Donatello started to say, but he was cut off.

"SAM, RUN!"

Morgan's panicked shout echoed from the phone in Donatello's hand and the sounds of a struggle ensued. Deep grunts and sharp cries implied she put up a fight, but it was short lived. A loud crunch, scrape, and scuffling sound followed, and the brothers stared at each other in horror; forced to sit by and listen as the one they were supposed to be protecting fought alone.

Glass shattered and they flinched as one when Morgan cried out; the first noise they'd heard from her since the ruckus began. She groaned and the loud scraping came again followed by her running footsteps.

"She got away?" Mikey asked Leo. His eyes were huge and he barely breathed as he strained his ears to learn more.

Leo's face was grim, his mouth set in a flat line as he cocked his head, trying to read the movements of the enemy over the sound of their own squealing tires. Yelling and additional footsteps from the phone made Mikey's face fall.

"How many?" Don asked.

"At least five," Leo said, "She's disabled two. One is limping, the other stayed down."

The tortured groan of metal and squeaky wheels brought all eyes back to the phone and twisted Donatello's expression.

"Hon, those dumpsters have locks on the back rollers, it won't stop them..." he said as if she could heed his advice.

A sharp yelp made them jump. She'd been cut off. A deep, evil chuckle, more glass breaking, and a loud crack followed.

"She fell?" Mikey guessed.

His mouth dropped open as a horrible rasping, choking sound reverberated from the speaker. Without thinking, he launched his body at the side door, but Leo grabbed his leg holding him back.

"You won't do her any good if you're seen and the authorities start hunting us," Leonardo snapped.

"He's killing her!" Michelangelo rounded on his brother clenching a fist, but Don stopped the looming fight by grabbing his arm.

"They won't kill her Mikey, Charlie needs her alive or he'll never get his business back from the client."

"And who is this big, bad guy everyone is so afraid of?" Mikey demanded. "How do you know he isn't going to cut his losses and get rid of her for running away?"

Leonardo closed his eyes.

"Because she's intended for the Shredder."

* * *

Raphael ran.

Harder and faster than he ever had in his life.

The buildings skimmed by beneath him, practically unnoticed except as markers indicating he was getting closer to his goal. His chest was tight, burning, but the fire wasn't from exertion. So many what if's were running through his mind, he couldn't bring them to heel.

Morgan was alone and walking into a trap.

He knew something was wrong with the other woman's voice when he heard the call. It was too tense and the emotions were forced. Samantha may be someone Morgan knew from her past, but right now she was ruining Morgan's future.

 _Almost there._

He pushed himself harder, faster, his muscles burning; protesting the strain. He ignored them, sliding to a halt on the roof of Angel Automotive. Cautiously, he approached the edge and peered intently into the alley.

The air rushed from his lungs and his blood began to boil at what he saw. A man held his angel against the wall, his hands wrapped around her neck. As he watched, Morgan went limp and the thug carelessly let her fall to the ground. He proceeded to drag her the full length of the space by her throat, towing her toward a van parked at the front.

Her scent, mixed with the unmistakable coppery taste of blood, rose up to the rooftop and overwhelmed him. Losing all control, he leapt into the alleyway, shouting insanely.

"Filthy Dragon! Let my girl go, right now, and I might let ya live."

It was a lie.

Raphael was going to flat out kill this man and all the others involved for what they had done to his love. He'd thought her unconscious, but at the sound of his voice, she began to struggle weakly. He hadn't believed it possible to be any angrier, but the sight inflamed him.

"Hang on, Morgan, I'm coming!"

Drawing a sai, he charged the man holding her so negligently. The flame in his eyes exploded into an inferno as the punk tossed his angel into the back of the van with no more regard than he would give a bag of trash and shut the doors.

A deadly roar shook his frame as he collided bodily with the man, pinning him to the vehicle with all the force of his momentum. He slammed his forearm across the villain's throat, determined to crush the life out of him.

The van pulled away, spinning it's wheels and leaving the smell of burnt rubber hanging in the air as the punk dropped to the ground.

Panicked, Raph reached for some shuriken to puncture the tires but the fallen man swept his feet. As he fell, the remaining humans dogpiled on him, trying to restrain him by sheer force of numbers.

With an outraged cry, Raphael reared to his feet and bodies flew in every direction. He was advancing on the leader, sai poised to slit his throat when something looped about his arms holding him back. Furious, he ripped his gaze from the thug to see Mikey held one and Leo the other; both were dragging him away from his fallen victims.

Sirens pierced the still air as he struggled against them.

"Raph, we gotta go, bro!" Michelangelo said. "The cops will be here any second."

As they tried to force Raphael into the van, Donatello jumped out with a gallon of bleach in his hand. Ignoring his struggling brothers, he methodically poured the substance over every drop of Morgan's blood in the alley, even going so far as to wash it from the thug's hands. He splashed it over the side of the dumpster and rinsed the mirror shards before getting rapidly back in their transport.

They hauled Raph in and Casey took off right before the first police car came around the corner.

"Whew, that was close," Mikey said and Raphael turned on him.

"Close? CLOSE? They got Morgan!"

Leo snagged his fist as his hot-tempered brother drew back to strike and twisted his arm, forcing him to the floor.

"Raph! Get it together. Donnie's got the tracker up and we're following them." Leonardo said as Don hunched behind the driver's seat murmuring to Casey. "This isn't over yet."

Leo released his arm and Raphael sank back on his knees, covering his face.

"I was right there," he mumbled in despair. "And I couldn't get to her..."

He glanced up and Donatello met his gaze. "She's bleedin, Don," he said as his brother nodded in sympathy. "And they choked her. I thought she passed out, but she heard me. She started strugglin' even though that bastard had her by the throat. She could hardly move..."

Raph's eyes grew wet and he clenched them shut.

"She knew I was there and I failed her!"

He balled a fist and slammed it into the side of the van, rocking it on it's wheels and leaving a deep indentation.

"We'll get her back," Leo said, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It won't be long until it's dark enough to go out or they head someplace remote enough we won't be seen, then we'll have them."

"It's only another 40 minutes on the sunset," Donatello chimed in.

"She's bleedin' out in the back of that van," Raphael said with venom. "We don't have time to wait."

Don shook his head and held up the cloned phone.

"From what I can make out, they're patching her up right now. Somebody there's got some triage training."

They all fell silent, trying to ascertain what was happening, but after the flurry of first aid, there wasn't much to go on. They settled into an uncomfortable silence until a groan startled them.

Raphael had to stifle a groan of his own as they listened to Morgan coming around. She whimpered softly and a little gasp escaped her before something more intelligent came through.

"Guys?" she called. Her voice was rough, barely audible, and she sounded a little woozy. "You're too close. I can feel you."

"What's she sayin?" A gruff voice asked.

"Ah, don't worry about it. The bitch is delusional," A second replied.

The brothers tensed as one and leaned toward the device in the growing darkness of the van.

"Don't get caught trying to save me," she whispered. Her voice became indignant. "You were out in the open! You-you shouldn't- you shouldn't do that. Not- not for me," she stuttered.

Her teeth were chattering and Don's face tightened into a grim expression. "They might have stopped the bleeding," he said, "but I don't think they realize she's going into shock. We need to get her out of there in a hurry, Leo."

"Guys," Casey called, "They're going underground, a private parking garage under that high rise. Should I follow them?"

"Yes," a grim smile broke across Leo's face. "That'll be perfect. Donnie? You got the cameras?"

"On it," Don replied, typing furiously on his tablet.

"Raph, hold it together until I give the word," Leo warned. "Mikey, there's only two in the van, but we have to assume there will be more down below. You're the look out."

"Ready Don?"

"Cameras are on a loop," Don said as Casey pulled into the garage.

"Alright guys, we're going in."

* * *

Morgan couldn't tell if they heard her or not. If they had, they certainly weren't heeding her instructions to back off. Or were they? Were they even there? Some moments it seemed like they disappeared, but she wrote that off to her fading awareness.

Her captors pulled out of traffic, the sounds around the vehicle changed, and they slanted abruptly downward. Morgan gasped as the unexpected motion sent a surge of pain through her shoulder.

She was cold. Her teeth were chattering so hard it was all she could do not to bite her tongue. She curled feebly in on herself as the van rolled to a stop; wishing it was over. Wishing this was all one of her nightmares and she would wake up safe in Raphael's arms.

It seemed for one moment, she might get her wish. If she could believe her fluctuating senses, he was closer than ever. Right outside the door.

Before the men in the cab had a chance to move, the front doors flew open. There was a great deal of cursing and several hard thuds before silence descended again. She fought to raise her head from the floor, trying to determine what was going on around her, but couldn't make her muscles obey. As the side door opened, the best she could do was lift a hand in entreaty to the being reaching in for her.

A shock ran through her as he touched her palm gently with his own and an odd choking sound escaped him as she lost the strength to even hold up her hand and let it drop into the puddle of blood on the floor with an involuntary shudder.

Instantly, he hauled his vast bulk into the van with her and seconds later she was wrapped in the soft warmth of his overcoat. She struggled a little, worried about the blood soaking into it, but his gentle hands held it in place.

"Don!" She heard him call out the door, his voice thick with concern. Or was that fear?

"Get over here! She looks... bad."

* * *

As he slid the door aside with a violent yank, Raphael's eyes honed in on the small form huddled on the white metal floor. Only it wasn't white any longer. For one moment, he couldn't believe this was her, his love, his angel; until her tiny hand stretched out toward him, pleading for assistance. Helplessly, he extended his, pressing their palms together.

Inside he was screaming.

The interior of the van looked like something out of a slaughterhouse. Red spattered every surface and bloody footprints trailed from the pool of liquid underneath her to the front of the cab. Her coat had been cut away and a huge mass of bandages were pressed against the wound in her shoulder in some attempt at first aid, but her cheek still bled freely. Her formerly white shirt was destroyed, soaked in blood and sweat, covered in filth from the alley. Her black slacks were torn, holes gaping at the knees.

She shuddered, dropping her hand from his.

He retched, swallowing back massive dry heaves at the sight of his beloved in such a state and shook himself all over, coming out of his daze. She needed medical attention, right now, or she wasn't going to make it. He pulled himself into the van, stripped off his coat and pressed it over her shivering form.

"Don! Get over here! She looks... bad," he shouted into the silence outside the door, right as all hell broke loose.

"We got company!" Mikey's voice rang out.

Gunshots, loud and echoing in the garage made Morgan wince and whimper as Raphael turned back to her. His mind raced frantically. He had to get her out of here but what if her back was injured? Or more likely after that fiend in the alley, her neck? If he moved her without knowing, she might die in his arms.

"Sweetheart," he said, softening his tone as best he could in the dire circumstances, "I need to move ya, but I ain't no medical expert like Don. You have to do that sonar thing so I can see if it's alright."

Her eyes were open, bloodshot from the assault, but he wasn't sure she understood. She blinked vacantly at him, her face scrunched in confusion. He took her hand and swiped at her face, trying to wipe away some of the blood.

"Concentrate on me like ya did before, when I was hurt," he explained. "Last time I could feel you too."

Her eyes flashed wide in surprise, but she tried to focus. He could tell it was hard. She'd lost so much blood and the overwhelming gunfire and occasional rocking of the van as the battle got too near wasn't helping her concentration.

She almost had it. He felt the beginnings of fire and ice in his veins when a gun went off right next to them. The glass of the side window shattered and Raphael threw himself to all fours over her, shielding her from the falling debris.

He grunted in pain as a second shot echoed inside the van, briefly deafening him. In the doorway, a man laughed low.

"I got you, freak!" he said in glee. "If you get out now and throw down your weapons, I promise I won't shoot the girl."

Raphael didn't shift an inch from his position above her. His eyes slid to the right and a dark, cold smile crossed his face as another calm voice said,

"Drop the gun now, or _I promise_ you, you'll never hold anything in that hand again."

The thug turned his weapon rapidly on Leonardo who shrugged as if to say, 'well, I warned him.' In a move faster than the eye could follow, Leo twisted, knocking the gun out of his grip and grabbing his arm. Another sharp turn broke the man's wrist, pulling him off balance and sending him to the ground where he rolled around groaning.

Leo took a quick glance at the fighting still going on around him and nodded. Mikey, Don, and Casey were mopping up the remaining crew and everyone seemed to be ok. He turned back to Raph and his gaze narrowed.

"You've been shot!" he exclaimed, grabbing at the offending shoulder to staunch the bleeding. His brother normally moved so fast he was impossible to hit.

"It was worth it," Raph said as he threw off Leo's hand and shifted to reveal Morgan underneath him.

The leader's eyes widened at the pale color of her face and the amount of blood on the floor. A veritable pool to which Raphael was adding. The thick red liquid welled out of his shoulder and crawled slowly down his arm to where Morgan's hand rested, tiny against his bicep. Her eyes were blank and staring and Leo was sure she had checked out mentally from the pain and fear.

"I'll carry her, if you can't," he offered.

Raphael's fierce growl made him back up a step. "Nobody's movin' her 'til I know it won't make her worse!" he snapped.

Morgan roused at the growl, blinking and sliding her hand up his arm in an instinctive effort to soothe him. She froze when she felt the hot liquid coursing down.

"No!" she gasped and her eyes fluttered shut.

She didn't even have to try this time. Raphael had no warning as a tremendous pulse radiated out from her. Fear powered the tidal wave of energy reaching, not only Raph but all the others in the garage as well.

Raphael, hovering above her, closed his eyes as her pain slammed into him, while she examined him as best she could. The bullet had simply grazed his arm, making a long groove on the top of his shoulder. It was painful and bloody but not life threatening. It would heal cleanly.

She sighed in relief and let her consciousness slide, only drifting back to her body when Raphael breathed her name.

"Morgan, your spine is ok, so I'm gonna pick ya up now, take ya to our van. Alright?"

She nodded weakly and he slid his arms under her as gently as he could before backing out of the van with Leonardo steadying him. Despite his care, she moaned in agony at his every movement.

Donatello paused beside them, two containers of bleach in his hands.

"Leo, I've got to start treating her now. Drench all her spilled blood with this. I don't want them to get a viable sample. There's something unusual about it and we can't afford to have any 'other' parties interested."

As Raphael hurried across the parking lot, Morgan's eyes slowly drifted shut. Her head lolled back over his arm and her breathing became labored. By the time he reached their vehicle, she struggled for every breath.

"Donnie!" he screamed as he laid her out on the back seat, "She's crashing!"

He scooped up her tiny hand and held it to his cheek.

"Don't leave me, Angel!" he whispered through a throat tight with fear. "I just found ya! Don't go where I can't follow."

She freed her hand and stroked his face gently with the back of two fingers, then she shuddered as she exhaled once more; her body going limp.

She did not breathe in again.


	20. Waking Up

**Waking up**

A muffled noise began to intrude on Morgan's consciousness. An irritating, consistent high-pitched beep. She tried to identify it and her fuzzy thoughts compared it to all kinds of things, some logical, others not so much: the steady pulse of her alarm clock; a countdown timer on a bomb; the alert sound from the microwave; first notes of a symphony; the open door of an SUV; a crosswalk sign near her apartment; or perhaps one of Donatello's gadgets.

Donatello. There was something she wanted to tell him before it was too late. The urgency of the thought roused her a little more.

 _Too late for what?_

Voices tumbled over each other in her mind.

 _"Miss? Miss? Can you hear me? She's barely breathing. Starting CPR."_

 _"Pulse is thready. Looks like a knife wound to the left shoulder and another to the cheek. Trauma to the throat. Bruising down the right side seems to be several days old."_

These were voices she didn't know and she couldn't concentrate enough to check their auras. Why wouldn't everyone shut up and let her think? She needed to think. There was something wrong, something she had to warn them about. Hands lifted her to a gurney.

 _Wait._

She wasn't supposed to go anywhere with people she didn't know. She tried to struggle but her muscles wouldn't respond. What happened to her friends? Where was Raphael?

 _"Holy shit! There's a van here full of blood! If it's hers we've got to move fast!"_

 _"Somebody call CSU."_

 _" , we've got immediate incoming with heavy blood loss..."_

This wasn't it. This one was too recent. Farther back. Think Morgan, think!

Raphael's panicked voice in the next memory distracted her from the thought she was trying to chase down. Her guardian didn't panic. He was strong and faced things head on. Something serious must be wrong.

 _"Don't ya dare. Don't ya dare give up! Keep fightin' Angel! Ya have to keep fightin'..."_

 _"Move her out there. Casey! Call an ambulance! I don't have the resources to save her. Raph, help me with CPR. Give two breaths every time I stop compressions!"_

More beeping. It was starting to give her a headache. Or did she already have one? The blood pounding through her veins made the pain ten times worse. Her shoulder decided to join in, adding its own special flavor of agony, and her neck! Her throat was so sore, that thug had hands like a wrestler.

Still, she struggled to remember. What was it? Something important... Her thoughts chased each other in circles until voices interrupted again.

 _"She's lost too much blood. Shock is setting in."_

 _"She ain't breathin' Don! Do something!"_

"Beep... Beep... Beep..."

She was ready to scream. Why didn't it stop? Didn't anyone else hear? Why was it so loud?

She struggled to move, to voice the pain. To get someone to end the repetitive sound.

The moment she stopped searching, the memory surfaced. Two thugs leaning over her in the van, mashing first aid supplies haphazardly against her shoulder. A sharp pain, distinct from the others pinched the side of her neck.

 _"There. If she slips away again, we can follow her anywhere."_

Pure panic seized her. She was alone, in the hands of the enemy. Trapped, with no way to get free. Surrounded by strangers. And now they had a way to track her. A scream she couldn't release battered the inside of her skull, mixing with the horrible high pitched whine into a sound out of her nightmares.

A pulse of awareness ripped from her as panic pushed her to search for signs of life nearby.

Across the room, a deep voice muffled a cry of pain.

The beeping ended abruptly and a large, two fingered hand lifted her own from the blankets. A familiar scent calmed her fear.

 _He_ was here.

* * *

Raphael slumped in the corner of the angel's hospital room with his head in his hands. He wasn't supposed to be here. The FBI stood outside the door 24/7 with orders to check everyone coming in against a list, even the doctors and nurses. And they stuck their heads in a couple of times an hour, but there was no way he was gonna let her lay in here alone the rest of the time.

Besides, if he could get in so easily there was nothing stopping a Foot ninja from waltzing in either. It wasn't like hospitals were meant to be Fort Knox.

Two days he'd waited by her side, dodging the staff and the guards, but she hadn't moved even the slightest bit. If it hadn't been for the steady beep of the heart monitor and the gentle rise and fall of her chest he would have gone insane.

For a while, he had.

They'd left her, his angel. Bleeding on the pavement as the paramedics zoomed in. In that instant he couldn't care less about discovery, but Leonardo struck him and the brothers threw him bodily into the van. It took all three of them to hold him down as Casey sped out of the garage. Enraged, he lashed out at those around him, unheeding of his brother's cries.

"What the HELL, Leo?" Raphael screamed. "That's my girl you left back there! Casey, turn this bucket around, NOW!"

"Casey, keep going," Leo ordered before throwing himself back on his struggling brother. "We had no choice, we had to leave her. For her own good."

"Did we, Fearless?" Raphael hissed, and Leo flinched from the soft yet deadly tone of his brother. "I think this is you covering your tail! You're the one who let her out of the safety of the lair in the daytime!"

"That's not fair, Raph," Michelangelo protested. "We all agreed to the plan."

"Plan? What kind of plan was it to follow her through midtown traffic?" Raph said, "Get OFFA me! I'm going back even if you ain't!"

"Raph they won't treat her if we're hovering over her," Donnie yelled over him. "It'll cost her precious seconds she doesn't have!"

Don's certainty of her impending doom hit him like a crushing blow and abruptly he collapsed back against the wall. All the fight drained out of him and his brothers cautiously let him go.

A horrible groaning sob welled up from somewhere deep in his stomach.

Morgan was dying. Bleeding to death in a dirty underground parking lot because he wasn't fast enough to save her from some thug in an alley. And he couldn't even be there for her. Grief overwhelmed him and he choked on the emotion. His heart was breaking into a million pieces and all his family could do was sit there and watch.

 _How had this happened?_

 _How, no, WHY had he even LET this petite human girl into his life; his heart? This hurt too damned much._

He was enraged, in agony, and useless with sorrow. But the truth was, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. She had swept into his life with no warning, and became the most important thing in his world, and now she was leaving him as abruptly as she had come.

He knew better. This was why he never let anyone close. In anguish, he locked his arms around his knees, refusing to meet the eyes of his brothers as sobs he couldn't control wracked his form.

Donatello knelt in front of him, pulling Raph's shaking shoulders into a fierce embrace. As usual, his compassionate brother saw right through him.

"Don't torment yourself for how you feel about her," Donnie murmured. "Love is a gift. One we never thought we'd see. And she loves you too."

Raphael blinked away the tears his memory conjured and squinted across the room to the hospital bed where his angel lay. It was 2 AM and Don would be dropping by any minute to try to get him to eat again. He sighed and crept to the window.

That's when he felt it. The pulse swept over him and agony enveloped every synapse of his mind. He stifled a harsh cry as best he could and spun toward the bed. In two quick strides, he reached the machinery and turned the volume knob down.

Instantly the pain in his head dulled and he snatched up her hand from the bed.

"You're awake in there, ain't ya angel," Raphael whispered. Hope exploded in his soul. His hand, holding hers ever so gently, trembled. A tiny squeeze answered him.

* * *

Donatello sighed as he rapidly surveyed the back side of the hospital and determined there was no immediate danger of being spotted. He shifted his duffle bag until it was balanced correctly over his shell and crept from the shadows of the fence to the wall of the building. With one last covert glance around he began to climb.

Morgan was on the ninth floor of a freestanding hospital at the edge of the city and luckily her window didn't face any sort of occupied dwelling. But it also meant there wasn't another building close enough to grant him access on either side, so he was forced to ascend the fascia to check in.

He climbed slowly, not truly ready to face the lost expression on his brother's face again. Raphael was a fierce fighter, but this constant battle with heartache was something Donnie didn't want to see.

Since Raph refused to leave her bedside, Don brought his meals and used the opportunity to examine her charts. Like him, the doctors were confused by Morgan's blood. It didn't match any known type and made giving her a transfusion risky. They went with O negative, the supposed 'universally' accepted type, but it wasn't taking.

She wasn't waking up and she should have by now.

Her body was doing something weird with the transfusion, trying to incorporate it by converting it into something else, but failing. If he didn't know better, he would have said it needed mutation, but there was no trace, or history, of mutagen in her body.

Still, he'd seen something like it before. In fact, now he considered, her blood reminded him of theirs, but more like the negative inverse. He had a sudden desire to see how the two would react if combined together. When he got home, he decided he'd run some tests.

Don reached Morgan's window and was surprised to find it still closed. Raph usually cracked it by now. He peered in to see his brother simply standing by the side of her bed, staring at her, lost in contemplation of her face. He cringed at the sight.

Raphael never touched her, not in all the times Don visited anyway. Somehow, his hot-headed brother had decided he was completely at fault in the matter of her injury and he refused to 'contaminate' her further until she was awake to give permission.

With a sad sigh, Don tapped gently on the glass.

Raph's head snapped around and their gazes locked for a split second before Don's eyes fell to his brother's hand where it was gripped lightly in hers. His eyes widened and he gestured for Raph to hurry up and open the window.

 _Morgan was awake._

* * *

Charles Hargrove was not a coward. Ruthless, yes. Savage even at times, but fear was an unknown emotion, until tonight.

Saki had summoned him.

Two days ago he felt confident about this meeting because, for one instant, Morgan had been in his possession. Those incompetent Dragons even made it into the subfloors of his building with her before it all went south.

If Hun hadn't stepped in to back his lieutenant, Charlie would have had the man flogged until he'd gotten the truth. The video surveillance had been tampered with, so there was no way of knowing what the men actually encountered, but if Hun and his unfortunate underling were to be believed, some urban legend from the streets had shown up to rescue the girl.

Alligators in the sewers he had heard of, but turtles? Humanoid turtles who could speak and fight? It was a stretch for Charlie's literal mind, but Hun assured him Saki was familiar with said phenomena. Which didn't exactly bode well for Charlie. To have lost his greatest prize to Saki's worst enemy didn't sound like a good thing to admit.

But they hadn't taken the girl far. In fact, they left her dying on the pavement. Maybe they didn't think she was worth saving after all.

Charlie strode with grace through the multiple receiving rooms until he reached the wide double doors at the back of the property, where he paused to take a deep breath. At least he knew where the girl was; under FBI protection at a hospital downtown. Given a little more time, Charlie was certain he could retrieve her. Perhaps that was the best way to spin it. He fixed a cold, nonchalant expression on his face and shoved his way through the doors.

Saki was big on ritual formality, so Charlie strode exactly 75 paces into the vast hall and stopped to bow deeply toward the front of the room. He kept his eyes focused on the floor and waited for Saki to speak.

"Rise."

The voice was guttural and deep, filled with layers of inflection that would make most practiced politicians blanch; trying to devise their meaning. But Charlie was no ordinary politician. Saki was shrouded in shadow, but Charlie could make out his armored form seated on a dais. The man had a flair for the dramatic, but it did not make him any less dangerous. He stood and fixed his gaze to the left of the man, to a spot over his shoulder.

"You honor me with your personal invitation, Master Shredder," Charlie intoned respectfully.

"Yet you boldly enter my presence without a hint of your promised goods," Shredder rumbled menacingly.

Charlie inclined his head again.

"It is true. I do not currently possess your... trainee. But I do know where she is and it will not take long to recover her."

The Shredder fixed him with a red stare from beneath the sharp lines of his helmet and tilted his head.

"Do you think me a fool, Mr. Hargrove?"

Charlie started and glanced quickly at Saki's face before fixing his gaze on the floor and swallowing hard.

"No, sir."

"This prize. Is she everything you have led me to believe?"

Charlie's eyes lit from within as he remembered endless nights with Morgan at his side, some willing; most not.

"She is more than I ever imagined she would be," Charlie whispered with lust in his eyes.

"Then how could you afford to lose her?" Shredder demanded, his fist connecting with the arm of the chair. Charlie jumped and cringed back ever so slightly before forcing himself to stand tall again.

"For six years you have promised me perfection. And yet, it seems you cannot deliver." The Shredder's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps it is because you do not wish to release her?"

"Master, I could not present her to you half trained. It was an unfortunate circumstance which led to her... misappropriation, but she is trackable now, I assure you," Charlie said smoothly, but sweat beaded on his brow.

The Shredder raised a hand and the double doors opened behind Charlie. A young woman dressed entirely in black flowed forward with deadly grace to stand beside him.

"Karai," Shredder greeted with a nod.

"Master," Karai said with a short bow, "The Dragon's admit to their role in losing the girl, but what this one fails to confide," her eyes flicked to Charlie at her side, "was the presence of our nemesis."

Shredder's eyes blazed.

"You lost my prize to the hands of the Hamato clan?" he demanded.

"The Hamato clan?" Charlie repeated blankly.

"Those mutated freaks of nature! Those Turtles!"

Charlie shook his head, not daring to fully refute the existence of something he strongly suspected the Shredder's underlings had invented as a scapegoat, but not wanting to confirm it either.

"I have not seen such creatures, Master. There was a battle. Surveillance was damaged so I cannot verify the assailants, but the girl was left behind. She is in the hospital under guard by the FBI. The place is full of security holes and she will be easily extracted at such a time as we have set up a clinic to rehabilitate her. That is the extent of my knowledge."

"You are ignorant as well as foolish," Karai said with a malicious grin. "Father, the Turtle's left her to the care of humans because she was injured and near death. She will be many months in recovery if she survives at all."

Charlie started at the word 'father', but it was his turn to smile.

"Ah, it is you who are ignorant my dear," Charlie smirked. He pulled a syringe out of his coat which held a swirling silver serum. "Morgan is unique. Her blood tested odd the first time she went through my personal clinic and, over the years, my scientists derived this serum from the negative spaces in her DNA sequence.

Once injected, she will heal of all injuries within a week." He chuckled dangerously. "It is quite a painful process, so you will want to prepare a soundproof chamber. Her screaming, while sweet in the beginning, becomes tiresome after a while."

Karai, standing beside him, had gone rigid and blanched slightly at his description, but Saki leaned forward on his throne. His eyes gleamed with greed and desire.

"Tell me more about this serum."

* * *

4 AM.

Leonardo turned away from his vigil on the edge of the skyscraper across the vacant lot from the hospital. Don had texted two hours ago. Morgan was awake, though not really conscious. Leo had not stopped thanking whatever beings might be listening that the girl had not succumbed to her injuries and died.

Raphael would not have survived. At least, not as the same person they knew and loved.

Michelangelo, sitting a few feet away, yawned.

"Leo, you gotta get some sleep, bro."

Leo grimaced and turned back at the hospital window, his brow furrowed in concern. "I know, but I want to make sure I'm up to hear Don's full report. He'll be back soon."

"Dude, let it go."

Leo stared hard at his youngest brother, trying to decide what he was referring too.

"Morgan needed a human doctor. Just because she isn't getting better right away doesn't mean you made the wrong decision. You did what you had to do, dragging Raph away from her," Mikey said, "You gotta let up on yourself."

Leo rubbed the back of his head with one hand and flushed a little. "That obvious, huh?'

Mikey jumped up and gave him a friendly pat on the shell. "Only to those of us who've known you forever, dude." He grinned. "You get this funny wrinkle over your bandana when you feel guilty."

"He's right."

The quiet female voice startled them and the brothers swung around as one, drawing their weapons. A black clad Karai, dropped silently from the top of a nearby water tower to the roof and waved off their attack stance.

"I don't know what you're feeling guilty about now, but that little crease is a dead giveaway," she said.

"What do you want, Karai?" Leo said sharply. "I don't have time to discuss my habits with you tonight."

She shrugged and a small smile flitted across her face.

"I have some information I might feel like passing on, if you were to ask nicely," she said.

"What makes you think we want it?" Mikey demanded, not dropping his guard in the slightest.

"It pertains to your brother's new pet and her repatriation," she said with a malicious grin. "She is Foot property, after all."

"Karai," Leo snorted in disgust. "I know you don't believe in people as property, no matter your affiliations." He sheathed his swords and regarded her warily, "So what is it you know?"

"That's not a very nice way of asking, Leo," she pouted. "I'm sure you can find a better one."

She batted her eyelashes at him and flowed a few steps closer. His eyes narrowed and in a move too fast to follow, Leonardo had her arm twisted up behind her back. He pulled her close to his chest and a small knife appeared at her throat. He smiled.

"Karai," he breathed, "Spill."

She laughed lightly as he released her with a gentle shove. She took great pleasure in their little games.

"Charles Hargrove plans to establish an isolated clinic under one of the Foot's buildings. He has a serum that will supposedly heal the girl in under a week so he can return her in a fully functional state. It's supposed to interact with her blood in some way, but it sounds like pure torture."

She shuddered. It took a lot to turn her stomach, but the way the man's eyes gleamed as he described what the serum would do to the girl had done it. It was all she could do not to slice him open right there.

"They're going to snatch her as soon as it's up and running." She shrugged and backed to the edge of the building. "Thought you'd want to know."

"Why?" Mikey asked.

She stared at him blankly. "Raph has a thing for her, doesn't he?" she asked, frowning. "That Dragon said he did."

"No!" Mikey said, frustrated. "Why are you telling us this? Isn't Morgan like supposed to be the Shredder's perfect woman or something? Why would you mess with that?"

Her frown deepened. "Many reasons. If she's so perfect, I'll be fighting her for influence. Then there's the possible competition of more heirs. Take your pick. Besides, Charlie is a real prick, and I want to see him go down."

She flashed them a smile and disappeared from view over the side.

Leo and Mikey stared at each other and Leo ran a frustrated palm over his face. Extraction plans would have to be escalated, but how were they supposed to get a mortally injured woman through the sewers to the safety of the lair?

"It's not fair," Mikey said fiercely. "Morgan is the sweetest, nicest girl. She deserves an awesome guy. And Raph deserves her. How did things get so twisted? How does someone so special get affiliated with the Foot?"

"She had no choice, Mikey. Charlie took it away from her."

Leonardo shook his head, more determined than ever to defend Morgan. There was no question in his mind anymore. Raphael and she were meant to be together, and though she was embroiled in this twisted mess they would extract her.

It might take everything they had to protect her, but his sister was coming home.


	21. Blood Match

Donatello frowned at the test tube in his hand and shook the mysterious contents. The mass of dark red sludge jiggled a little before sinking to the bottom of the suspension.

"What am I looking at?" Don asked, throwing a puzzled glance over his shoulder to where the other white lab-coated mutant was working.

"That," the large crocodile said in a deep southern drawl, "is what happens to your girl's blood when mixed with the common human variants."

Donatello blanched, his face turning a paler green. "Even the O neg?"

Leatherhead shrugged.

"It is not so violent a trigger as the others, but still incompatible. No wonder she has not awakened. She is weak from the loss of her own precious blood and the transfusions will destroy many of her remaining healthy cells. Has she displayed any other symptoms?"

Don consulted his phone, checking the latest photo Raphael sent of her hospital chart.

"Fever, shivering, and a slight yellowing of the skin."

"Ack, the girl, she is in danger. The more they transfuse her the worse she will become."

Donatello set the test tube down and rubbed his eyes. Two days had passed since Raph claimed Morgan was mentally aware, but neither Don nor the doctors confirmed his findings. The sort of physical sonar Raph described as evidence was something Donatello himself had never heard of. It might exist, but he had to wonder if his brother was grasping at straws to reassure himself of Morgan's eventual recovery.

"It's probably best if we move her sooner rather than later," Don said with a sigh.

"That is inadvisable, my friend. When her body weakens she will need the ventilators and life support equipment at the hospital."

"We don't have a choice, Leatherhead. Reliable intel says the Shredder will act soon to take her into custody."

Don's fist hit the counter in front of him in frustration, rattling the test tubes and flasks on the table. The crocodile's eyes widened. Very little pushed his friend into venting his emotions in a physical form. His golden pupils slitted in thought.

"This girl, she is human, yes? Where did she come from?" Leatherhead asked. "Perhaps a parent or family member could be found whose blood matches hers."

Don barked a laugh.

"If only it were that simple. As far as I can tell, her DNA is human; weird but human. At least, I haven't detected any alien particles or any type of mutagen," he added with a sigh. "She was adopted somewhere in the Midwest. I searched high and low, but there are no digitized records of her birth family. The adoption agency reported the only things on her when she was left at the orphanage were a pendant of a turtle and a note which read 'Find your match'."

"Hmm. What use is she going to be to the Shredder? In her condition, she is not a viable test subject."

"She was never a test subject, Leatherhead."

"You alluded she escaped from one of his facilities!"

"She did," Don replied with quiet sadness. He hesitated to tell his friend what she had been through, knowing the crocodile suffered in captivity himself. He had to phrase this delicately. "She was a forced participant in acts of an intimate and personal nature. They behaviorally modified her until she fit the Shredder's tastes."

His phrasing didn't fool Leatherhead in the least.

"The girl was a sex slave?" the crocodile cried, "The Shredder's bedmate?"

Leatherhead's eyes flared with rage and horror, but his control held. Perhaps because he had not yet met the girl. Morgan was sweetness personified and the mere thought of her terrible experiences made Donatello's vision red with fury.

"She was being groomed for him, but she escaped before he took possession. She doesn't know who she was intended for and we haven't seen fit to tell her. But Shredder wants her back."

"And the one who tortured her?"

Don's face hardened.

"He is here, in the city, trying to justify his loss. If the Foot don't tear him limb from limb, I will."

Leatherhead laid a huge hand on Donatello's shoulder, shocked by this bloodthirsty reply from his most gentle friend.

"Why does she affect you so?"

"She's survived so much. The things they did to her should have broken her a long time ago, but they didn't. Her body and spirit took a beating, but she is still good to the core; the kindest human being I have ever met. That alone garnered my respect, but she also accepted us immediately, unflinchingly."

"A rare woman indeed."

"She's intelligent," Don added, "almost too clever. She picks up on every little nuance of a situation."

Leatherhead nodded. "I see. She intrigues you. You wish to pursue her?"

"What? No! She _is_ a fascinating woman, but Raphael would kill me."

"Raphael?"

"He's fallen for her so hard it's impossible to pry him from her side."

"Truly? To inspire such devotion in one so opposed to humanity..." the crocodile shook his head and changed the subject. "What do you think the Shredder wants with her now? She is of no use to him in her current state."

"Rumor has it, the man who tortured her developed a serum to make her heal faster, simply so he could hurt her again," Don said in disgust. "If Shredder has obtained it..."

"I would be most interested in analyzing this serum."

"You and me both. But getting the formula away from the Foot will be next to impossible. Besides, our informant says its usage is not pleasant in the slightest."

"Do you know anything about how it works?"

"Only that it was developed over many years after his pet scientists studied her DNA."

The crocodile's eyes widened again and he bared his teeth in anger.

"How long did they hold this girl?"

"Six years," Donnie whispered. "The poor thing survived practically every major trauma known to man, but now she's dying from blood loss."

"And Raphael? How is he taking this?"

"You wouldn't recognize him. He's like a ghost since she was injured. Day after day he guards her, growling at every little shadow passing the window or the base of her door. And every day she doesn't wake up he loses a little more hope."

"Then we shall have to locate some for him," the crocodile replied.

* * *

 _She is still breathing. Her heart is beating. She is alive. Morgan -will- wake up and when she does, I'll be here._

The phrases had become his mantra, chasing each other in his head as he chanted them over and over to himself. He glanced at her again from his hiding place, verifying the staff gathered around her were the same ones he'd seen work with her before.

He watched their movements to make sure they intended her no harm. He recognized them all. He took a photo of every person who entered Morgan's room and Don ran them through facial recognition software, hacking their lives to look for connections to the Foot, the Dragon's, or Charlie. So far, everyone turned up clean.

Oh, the lead physician was having an affair and the nurse on the right was hiding a pregnancy from her boyfriend, but it was pretty run of the mill stuff. He waited until the room was clear before easing out of the cramped airspace above the closet area and dropped silently to the floor.

In two strides, he was at her side again. His eyes scanned her face, searching for any slight difference, a sign she might wake up, proof the doctors were actually doing her some good. Nothing new met his tired gaze and he slumped down into the chair beside her bed.

Gingerly, he reached across and stroked her cheek with a finger. She was still burning up. The meds they were giving her to fight the fever weren't doing much good.

"I wish I could do more, angel," he whispered. "I would do anything to help you get well."

He leaned his arm on the bed next to her and rested his chin on it, keeping his eyes fixed on her face.

"I should never have let ya out of my sight. Hell, I shouldn't have let Leo talk me into taking ya topside to begin with. I blamed him, but it wasn't his fault. I was the one who swore to keep ya safe and I failed."

He paused to watch her chest rise and fall silently, brushing a rogue curl away from her forehead. His heart constricted and he moaned.

"There's so much I want to tell ya and I don't know now if you're ever going to wake up to hear."

His voice caught, becoming rough and low.

"You gave me a gift, angel. A damn precious one. You gave me your trust when ya had no reason too. You treated me like a person. Called me a man, even though ya knew I wasn't. Made me feel real for the first time in my life.

You said I was beautiful. You know how crazy that sounds to someone like me? You're the beautiful one, gorgeous through and through."

He left the chair and began to pace the room, muttering furiously to her as he did so.

"I kept waiting for the catch. For the moment something would send ya fleeing from me, but ya took everything in stride. You didn't bat an eye about the fact we live in a sewer, or that my father is a freaking rat! You didn't flinch away from my skin or my shell.

The only thing that scared ya was my temper. I thought I'd ruined my chances that first day at breakfast, but ya forgave me..."

He collapsed back into the chair to stare at her face, his voice no longer angry.

"And the kiss! Morgan, you don't know what ya do to me! I never thought I'd feel so intensely about anyone."

He shook himself and leaned his forehead against her uninjured shoulder.

"You are amazing," he mumbled into the bed, "and I can't stand the thought we won't have the chance to see where this goes. You have to come back to me."

He raised his head and gently stroked her cheek.

"I love you."

* * *

Donatello raced across the vacant lot and vaulted over the low fence denoting the hospital grounds. Tonight, he did not linger in the shadows hesitating to see his brother. Instead, eagerness to test his theory sent him up the facade in record time. He was early, but he wanted to implement his idea before the nurses came in to give Morgan her nightly transfusion.

Raph was slumped over the bed when Don peered in through the window and his light unexpected tap made his brother react violently. Raphael spun toward the sound with both sai drawn, fire in his eyes.

The flames cooled when he saw the intruder was Donatello. He holstered his weapons and wearily approached the glass to let him in.

"You're early," Raph said flatly. "I wasn't expecting ya for at least an hour."

Don whipped his duffel bag off his shell, dropping it into the chair next to her bed, and pulled out a cooler, but instead of the usual food items this one contained three clear bags full of blood. Raph's eyes widened when he saw them.

"Donnie! You figured something out?" His voice rose and for the first time in days, he smiled.

"Don't get your hopes up, Raph. This worked in the lab, but there's no guarantee it'll help her."

Raphael's frown returned.

"Will it make her worse? Like the transfusions she's getting now?"

"These were the only samples we tried that were non-reactive with hers. I'm hoping they're compatible enough she can incorporate them properly."

"Doesn't look like a lot," Raph said.

After days of watching the nurses give her transfusions, he had a general idea of how much blood was required. These three bags weren't even half full.

"It won't be a complete transfusion," Don said. "I wanted to start with a small amount of each in case of problems."

Donatello busily moved around Morgan as he spoke, detaching the clear fluid already connected to her I.V. and replacing it with the first small bag of blood. Before he reconnected the tube, Raph's large hand clamped over his own.

"Where did this blood come from?"

The question was sharp; suspicious. Don stared intently into his brother's eyes and saw fear. He didn't know if his answer would trigger that emotion. He sighed.

"It's ours Raph."

"What?" Raphael exploded.

"Keep your voice down or those FBI agents will be in here," Donatello said.

"You can't give her our blood! It's full of mutagen and god knows what else!"

"I know what else," Don said in a harsh whisper, "There are proteins and antibodies she's in dire need of. Ones that pair incredibly well with her own and might be able to reverse the effects of all the bad human stuff she's been processing."

Don's eyes became glassy as he mused aloud. "Each of us has slightly different amounts, of course, that's why I'm trying them all."

"Don," Raph asked through gritted teeth, "What about the mutagen?"

"It didn't affect the sample and should pass through her system without an issue. She's not going to spontaneously mutate into something else, if that's what you're worried about," Donatello said. "The concentration isn't high enough, and her DNA is remarkably solid; different from a normal human's. I told you that before."

Raphael breathed heavily, trying to decide if he should let his brother do this. Donnie was a genius and Morgan was slowly dying in front of him. If this was the only way... Eventually, he released his brother's hand and walked to the other side of the bed.

"Whose are you starting with?" Raph didn't know why it mattered, but to him it did.

"Mine," Don answered. "It was the closest match in protein levels. Not perfect, but 100 times better than the human samples."

"What about mine?" Raphael asked.

"I didn't have a recent sample to compare, but yours should be similar. I can take some to test if you want."

Donatello didn't expect his brother's sharp nod. Raph hated needles and was notoriously skittish around them, which was why there wasn't a specimen to begin with. He started the transfusion before coming around the bed to find a syringe in his duffle bag and hesitated before approaching his brother.

"I'm going to draw the sample now, ok?" Don asked.

Raph nodded again, never taking his eyes off Morgan's face. Don flipped a rubber cord expertly around Raph's upper arm and probed the veins of his inner elbow.

"Make a fist."

His brother silently did so, and he quickly slipped the needle into the vein and drew the syringe full before Raph changed his mind. It was over in seconds and Donnie hid his shock at Raphael's compliance.

"How long before you can tell if it's compatible?"

"Hmm... give me a few minutes."

Still stunned over his brother's ease at giving up his blood, Donatello rummaged around in the cooler, pulling out a test tube of Morgan's he was using as a control sample. He splashed a few drops into a clean petri dish and added a few of Raph's from the syringe.

He put on his custom goggles and activated the microscope function. Tiny cells swam into focus before his eyes. They didn't clump like the human samples and her cells didn't ignore his as they had the other mutant units. Instead, they embraced one another.

Don drew back, startled, increased the magnification of his headgear and looked again. He gasped at what he saw.

As in any sample, some cells were malformed and technically 'ill' among Morgan's. Raph's larger mutated cells were enclosing these within their outer membranes and repairing them on a microscopic level. Others simply used their own mutagen to copy her DNA, transforming themselves into an exact replica of her blood.

In minutes, Donatello was staring at a completely healthy sample of Morgan's blood. No trace of Raphael's original cells, or mutagen, remained and each cell he examined was perfect in every way.

"I don't believe it," Don murmured to himself.

Forgetting he was topside in a hospital room where they might be discovered at any moment, his scientific mind kicked into high gear and he began experimenting. He pricked his own finger, adding his blood to the mix.

It was compatible with Morgan's, yet remained distinct. No mutagen reaction occurred. He put in a few more drops of Raph's, feeling like a mad scientist playing with things he did not understand.

Raph's blood was drawn to hers and ignored his at first, but once the mutagen reaction kicked in, Raph's cells attacked Don's, converting them forcefully into a copy of Morgan's before changing themselves.

Again he was left staring at a sample that only contained Morgan's unique blood. He took off his goggles and stared into space as his mind raced at a thousand miles an hour, searching for an explanation.

He found none but was soon off on other tangents. Would Raph's blood heal a larger injury? Would it mutate into different types of cells? Or was it simply a blood thing?

He dove into his duffle bag and pulled out a set of medical instruments. Under Raphael's watchful gaze, he gently scraped some skin cells from near the wound on Morgan's cheek into a new petri dish. He added a few drops of blood and watched avidly.

The process was much slower. Several minutes passed before each cell was converted, but eventually all the cells mutated to match the source.

Don removed his goggles and stared at Raphael. His brother raised a brow ridge.

"Well Brainiac? What's the verdict?"

"I- well, I-"

Raph sighed.

"It's not right, is it," he said sadly. "I should've' known. Nothing about me is good for her. She deserves better." He gestured broadly at the I.V. stand. "Your blood seems to be helping though. She ain't so yellow anymore."

"No, you don't understand. You're a blood match."

"Impossible. I'm a mutated animal, she's a human. Even I know that much."

"Your blood mutates into an exact replica of hers," Don said and held up a hand to stop any further protest. "Don't ask me to explain, I've never seen it before. Mine didn't react that way. It seems to be unique to you."

Raphael stared at his brother in disbelief.

"What's more, your blood mutated into whatever cell I put in the dish and healed all the abnormal ones."

"What are ya saying, Don?"

"Your blood might be able to heal her in a rather short period of time. It's possible she could be well in a matter of weeks or even days instead of months."

"Take it," Raph said instantly, holding out his arm. "Give it to her right now."

Donatello shook his head. "We should wait for further testing. There are still too many unknowns."

"What? Why?" Raphael snapped. "You said it could heal her, and we need to get her out of here!"

"One, I don't know how long it would take," Don replied. "It could be too fast and the doctors might notice."

Raph shrugged and Donnie frowned.

"It could trigger all sorts of nasty repercussions, Raph. It's been hard enough keeping the existence of her strange blood a secret. I've had to hack the hospital records and the doctor's emails constantly to keep the information from leaking out. You and I both know there are people like Agent Bishop and Dr. Stockman waiting for news of this type of discovery."

Raphael's eyes drifted to Morgan's face and his hand hovered over hers on the blanket, touching it ever so slightly.

"I broke her, Don," he admitted. "It might as well have been my hands around her throat in that alley. I was cocky. Confident I could keep her safe, but I failed. I didn't get there in time and I let my anger blind me. I didn't stop the van when I had the chance. Now you're telling me I might be able to make it right. That my blood could fix her. Please... let me do this."

Donatello's face softened.

"I know you feel guilty Raph, but this wasn't your fault. It was a well choreographed plan. Those were professionals sent in to retrieve her."

The look on Raph's face said he wasn't buying it and Don sighed, changing tactics.

"We _will_ try," he said. "But only in the lair and only after she wakes enough to consent, OK? For all we know the process will be painful, like the serum."

Raphael paled a little and nodded. He did not want to cause the angel any more pain.

"For now," Don said, "Let's get these into her. I'll forge the charts so the night nurse thinks the day staff did the transfusion and if all goes well, tomorrow or the next day Morgan might be stable enough to move. Then we can finally take her home."


	22. The Promise

**A/N: Hi guys, I know Chapter 21 just dropped yesterday and all, but I wanted to wish you happy Friday and give you this sneak peek of Chapter 22! Not as long as a full chapter, it's more like a little bonus! Enjoy!**

 **The Promise**

Sunlight warmed it's way across her face and, all in an instant, she woke.

Today she suffered no fuzzy transition; no wondering where she was or what happened. She was all too terrifyingly aware Charlie's thugs abducted her, but somehow...

Somehow her guardians, her friends, managed to rescue her. Raphael appeared miraculously in the alley when she thought all hope lost and they followed the van, at great risk to themselves, until they could free her.

She drew in a deep breath to steady herself. The scent of antiseptic seared her nostrils. A monitor on her left beeped and the auras of dozens of people rushed up and down a few feet from where she lay.

 _Hospital_.

She vaguely remembered a stream of doctors and nurses as she meandered in and out of consciousness. She shuddered as a panic attack encroached, but she forced it away. She hated medical facilities; feared them. But this place must be secure or her friends would not leave her here.

They hadn't left.

A soft, rumbling snore by her right ear and the strength of the spicy scent in the room said Raphael, at least, remained with her and had for some time. Guarding; protecting her even though it was dangerous for him to do so.

She let out a breath she wasn't even aware she held and a wash of emotions welled up from deep inside. Relief at his presence. Fear of him being discovered, but most of all, an overwhelming joy.

Tentatively, she lifted her right hand to touch him and smiled when it responded. It was a mistake. Her left cheek spasmed in pain and she raised her hand to it. Gauze and medical tape covered the slash from the dirty mirror.

Distracted, she took inventory of the rest of her body. Her right wrist still ached and sported a brace, but it didn't hurt as much as her face and shoulder. She flexed the muscles of her left arm, testing the wound. Her hand was fine, the fingers, and the forearm. She made a face as the skin pulled above her bicep. Stitches. Both in her arm and cheek. She sighed, wondering for a moment if there would be a visible scar across her face.

 _Would Raphael care?_

Another quiet snore turned her lips up. Of course not. He was covered in scars and he was not so petty as to leave her for something so irrelevant. If it bothered him, she could always camouflage it.

She returned to her physical study. The lower half of her body seemed intact. She flexed her thighs, calves, ankles, and feet. She wiggled her toes. Her legs only suffered a couple of scraped knees and some bruises from the battle in the alley, but they were stiff and sore from lack of movement and every part of her felt weak. Her mind hiccuped a little in panic.

 _How long have I been here?_

Long enough to wear Raphael out with worry. He would not be sleeping during the day otherwise; anyone might walk in.

Softly, she reached out and traced the dome of his head. When he didn't react, she continued her light caresses, running them down the side of his face. He wasn't wearing his mask and nothing impeded her gentle stroking until she touched his cheek.

Abruptly, he woke. His muscles shifted under her hand as he tensed, listening to his surroundings. With a sharp little gasp, his much larger palm came up to cover hers.

"Morgan?"

The question, barely audible so lightly did he breathe it, was filled with wonder and revealed a dying kind of hope.

"Hi," she answered shyly.

Her voice rasped, both from the damaging pressure of the thug's hand and disuse, but to Raphael it seemed the most beautiful sound in the world.

* * *

Raph seethed in his hiding place. The airspace above the small closet in Morgan's hospital room was cramped and the atmosphere tasted stale, but he had spent many hours here and it didn't bother him. What made his temper flare was the fact his angel was finally awake and he wanted to be by her side; holding her close, keeping her as secure as possible.

Unfortunately, nurses had burst in to check on her change in pulse minutes after he woke to her caress, sending him diving for cover and setting off a flurry of action surrounding his love. Now, he hid away up here. Listening as Agent Moore interrogated Morgan about the attack.

It was a gentle kind of questioning, but it was an interrogation all the same. Raph bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a growl as the man took her through the events again and again. From the moment she hailed the cab in front of the government building to the last thing she remembered from the parking garage, asking probing questions.

Morgan trembled throughout her recitation. Reaction setting in as she relived the terrifying experience. Raph listened in horror as she described trying to dislodge the men who jumped her, the deadly mirror crashing over them, and her attempt to flee down the alley.

She gave a remarkably detailed description of the man who throttled her; dead on with her height and weight estimations. And she discerned the type of clothes he wore from the fabrics she felt during the struggle.

She was somewhat more vague about what happened after the van. Of course, there had to be large gaps in her story. Gaps where ninja turtles showed up and kicked Dragon ass into next Tuesday. Thankfully, her injuries provided some cover. She was able to say she passed out and didn't remember those with a straight face.

But she was getting tired. Her expression drooped and Raphael almost left his hideout to knock the annoying man unconscious so she might rest. At last, Agent Moore seemed to realize he couldn't push it any further. He excused himself, reassuring her there would be guards outside at all times, when Morgan's raspy question stopped him.

"Did you find Sam?" she asked.

"No," he said with a pitying glance. "There hasn't been any trace of Samantha Ryan since the incident."

Morgan nodded silently and Agent Moore left.

By the time Raphael descended, tears cascaded down her cheeks. He stood beside her, his face a mask of agony; unsure how to help or what to do. When she lifted her arms pleadingly in his direction, instinct took over. He scooped her off the bed, cradling her to his chest; mindful of the I.V. line she still wore.

She wrapped herself around him and buried her face against his throat as he sat in the chair next to the bed and rocked her gently back and forth. Tears for her friend and her own devastation trickled down his neck.

Right then, the world could have ended and Raphael wouldn't have noticed. Aliens might have invaded, the city gone up in flames, and he... wouldn't care. It certainly didn't matter if a nurse came in and saw him. He didn't give a damn about anything but soothing the distraught girl in his arms.

"I want to go home," she sobbed into his shoulder as he stroked her hair.

"I know you do, Sweetheart," Raph said, keeping his voice soft and low. "But they know where you work now, so it won't be long before they find your apartment too."

He wasn't going to tell her they already had. Two nights ago, Donatello phoned him and explained in a quietly horrified tone how he'd seen two dozen Foot soldiers rip her place apart on the security cameras.

"No," she said through her tears, shaking her head. "I want my beautiful cozy room that smells of incense and wonder."

Stunned, Raphael froze. He had to be misunderstanding. She couldn't mean the meditation room at the lair, could she? Her next words left no doubt.

"I want Mikey's hot breakfast and Donatello's cool hands to treat me," she said brokenly. "I want Leonardo to tell me he has a plan to keep us safe no matter what. And I want you at my side, not hiding away somewhere because of _people_."

Deep in his chest the rumbling purr sprang to life and he clutched her closer, as tight as he thought she could bear. He buried his face in her hair, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and planted a soft, tender kiss on the top of her head.

"There already is a plan," he said gruffly. "As soon as night falls, I'm taking you home."


	23. Exit Strategy

"Are you sure, Raph?"

Donatello's doubtful tone said he was clearly not in favor of moving her too quickly. The four of them had been in conference on their phones ever since Morgan drifted back into an uncomfortable slumber and, despite his pleasure at hearing the girl woke, their genius brother raised one logical objection after another to Raph's demand to bring her back to the lair this evening.

"She _just_ regained consciousness. We should wait to see what other effects the blood transfusion might trigger before we subject her body to the strain of moving her," Don said.

Raphael clenched his fist in frustration. He needed some backup because it was going to take more than his desire to override Donnie when medical knowledge and treatment was the object of debate.

"Leo, how much time do you think is left before Charlie and the Foot come to claim her?" Raph asked, drawing his older brother into the fray.

A long moment of silence passed as Leonardo considered and each second pulsed through Raphael almost physically as he waited. If the enemy could descend at any time, it would be a powerful argument in his favor.

"Karai wasn't too specific. I guess it will depend on how fast they can modify one of their experimental labs into enough of a clinic to hold her. And they will have to find a physician they can bribe to watch over her 'treatment'," Leo said. "Don, you know more about how long it will take to convert a lab."

"A few days max, I would think," Donatello said. "It will be harder to find the doctor. Most of the ones they could recruit around here, even those supporting underground clinics, won't violate their oaths to speed up recovery."

"Dude will probably fly in one of his 'personal staff' from the West coast," Michelangelo said, "so they know there won't be an objection."

Raphael snarled into his headset and added another group of people to his mental list. A list of those who were not long for this world. He planned on taking out anyone who had a hand in torturing his love; not only Charlie but those who held her captive under house arrest and those who knew about her pain yet did nothing.

The doctors and clinic staff he hadn't considered, but they were the worst of the bunch. They knew about the abuse and not only looked the other way but developed a serum to make it possible for the bastard to hurt her even more savagely. And the 'treatment' was purported to be worse than the torture.

His vengeance might take years since traveling to the West coast would be difficult for a six-foot tall turtle, but as long as they kept coming to him...

He shook his head and refocused on the task at hand. He promised to take Morgan home. The hospital was not doing her any good and the people were hindering the treatments which might help her recover. Namely his presence and, possibly, his blood.

"So, what you're sayin' is they could show up any time now?" Raph asked.

Donatello sighed. "Yes, I suppose they could."

"I ain't leaving her in this place another night, Don," Raphael said. "I can't."

His angel waking up revived his hope for their future, but he still blamed himself for her injuries and he'd lost confidence in his ability to protect her from the world. This experience had destroyed his illusion of control and it was sobering. The faster he could get her home, where the four of them and Don's bullet proof security system could watch over her, the better.

Don shivered at the exposed pain in his brother's voice and wondered how much more he should object. Despite the breakthrough of her awakening, Morgan still teetered on the brink of disaster. Too much excitement could push her over the edge. Relapse and even coma were common after such extensive trauma to the body, but Don didn't want to stress the family out further by telling them. Raphael was already too close to breaking.

Donnie honestly wouldn't know if Morgan could be moved until he examined her himself, but Raph's description of her behavior sounded positive. She spoke coherently, recognized him, and deflected Agent Moore's questions with her usual competence. But she hadn't left her bed in four days and her physical injuries were going to be a drain on her system for months.

However, the hospital allowed their enemies a far too easy an opportunity to access her. If they were to have any chance of keeping her out of Shredder's hands, they would have to act soon. Donatello suppressed his arguments. If Morgan was stable, they should bring her back to the lair.

"All right," Don said.

"Awesome!" Mikey interrupted. His high-pitched shout of glee made the others wince. "I'll get her room set up with the medical stuff from Don's lab."

There was a click as the youngest turtle hung up to see to his self-assigned task. Donatello sighed again.

"We do this my way, ok?" Don said. "She is far too fragile to handle being schlepped over the rooftops willy-nilly in someone's arms. This extraction needs to be smooth and seamless. She can't take any more shocks."

"So," Raph asked. "What's the plan?"

* * *

It was 9 PM. The day staff had gone off duty and Raphael was waiting impatiently for his family to arrive. They had a short window of opportunity before the night crew took up the rotation and he wanted to get his angel well away from this crush of humanity before they discovered her missing.

A flash caught his eye as he stared out of Morgan's hospital room toward the building opposite. The unmistakable glint of light reflecting off metal. It shimmered down the length of Leonardo's katana, repeating itself twice. It was the signal his brothers were ready and, so far, the coast seemed clear.

Raphael grimaced as he opened the window and prepared to climb down nine stories to the ground. He swung adroitly through it and paused, hanging by his fingertips from the windowsill. He peered back in at the motionless form of his angel. She looked so tiny and helpless in the hospital bed. She was asleep and his absence would be brief, but he was loathe to leave her.

Anything at all might happen while he was away.

With a snort, he pushed away his uncertainty. There were two FBI agents keeping humans from the hall door and his brothers had the outside approaches to the building under surveillance. Nothing untoward was going to get close to her before he got back.

Even so, he was going to hurry.

His descent was more rapid than was safe and he ran as fast as he could across the vacant lot next to the hospital. He scaled the fire escape to the top of the building in record time and held out his hands. Silently the blue-clad turtle began to hand him equipment. A heavy duffle bag which clinked metallically, two coils of rope, and a long leather sling.

"Don and Mikey in position?" Raph asked.

Leonardo nodded as his steely blue-gray eyes darted over his younger brother from head to foot. He hadn't seen Raphael in days and he frowned, not liking the sum of his evaluation. The emotional pain, lack of food, constant stress, and sleep deprivation had taken their toll. Nothing was obviously wrong, but Leo knew his brother's physique and could spot the subtle signs of trouble.

Raph's eyes were sunken behind his mask, his skin had lost its deep green luster, and soft lines creased his forehead. He moved quickly, but his actions were slightly stilted and lacked his usual powerful grace. His wounds from the alley and the parking garage were not fully healed; an oddity since his mutagen enhanced body was usually quick to recover. But he did not allow Don even a moment to treat him before he slunk off to the hospital, so it was not terribly surprising.

It was going to be a while before the hot-head was back in fighting trim. He needed a break, but he was still the strongest of the four and Leonardo doubted Raph would let any of the others to transport Morgan down the side of the building. Still, he had to offer.

"I can set the rig and hold it, if you need me too," Leo said.

He kept his voice smooth with no hint of command or condemnation. His offer was simply a brother's gift of assistance. Despite the polite phrasing, he braced for an explosion. Raphael did not like to be perceived as weak, ever. And he had a tendency to make matters physical as a reminder. But this time Raph surprised him with a wry smile.

"I ain't lookin' so hot, am I, Fearless," he said. "Well, I ain't feeling it either. Don and I can set the pulleys, but I wouldn't object to another pair of hands on the line."

When Leo's eyes widened and his brow ridges shot up in surprise, Raph shrugged.

"I ain't about to chance dropping her nine stories cause I was too proud to ask for help."

Leonardo punched him lightly on the shoulder. "I've got your back. I'll be up as soon as the diversion is set in motion."

His brother gave him a sharp nod and disappeared over the edge of the fire escape; in a hurry to return to his angel. Leo was left standing alone on the rooftop, a slight smile gracing his lips as he watched the dark form scramble back across the lot and up the side of the building. He hadn't anticipated how good Morgan would be for Raphael. His brother's outlook had altered tremendously since the girl came into his life and it made Leo proud. Proud to see his younger brother embrace change. Now if they could just get her safely home...

Raph clenched his teeth as he made his way back to Morgan's room. The bullet wound in his shoulder had closed over, but the scar tissue was tight and protested the flexing and stretching of his muscles as he climbed; threatening to break open again at the slightest provocation. He forced the painful twinge from his awareness. Tonight was about Morgan and nothing was going to stop him from taking her home.

He swung himself back into her window and sighed in relief to note she was exactly as he had left her. She slept fitfully throughout the afternoon, but she seemed more settled now. She was still curled up on her side facing him with one hand tucked up under her cheek.

He decided to let her sleep a few moments longer and rifled through the duffle bag, drawing out a heavy blanket before grabbing a coil of rope and heading back to the window. He stuck his head out again.

This time he turned upward and gave a low piercing whistle. Donatello's silhouette appeared above him, dark against the stars. He twirled the line and flung the end up four stories to his brother, who caught it adroitly. Raph tied his section to the duffle and Don hauled the bag to the roof.

The genius made short work of setting up the pulley system; not surprising since Don had designed it himself. Soon, both ends of the rope dropped back down. They were followed by the purple banded turtle himself as he repelled down the building and scrambled through Morgan's window.

"I will _not_ miss coming here every night," Don said, flexing his hands lightly. "All this climbing is going to give me arthritis."

Raph shushed him, indicating the sleeping girl behind them, before testing the rope line himself and bending to inspect the leather sling. If all went well, Leo would set off the distraction to draw away the plainclothes officers who circled the building, Don would climb down, Mikey would pull up in the Battle Shell, he and Leonardo would lower Morgan in the sling and everyone could head safely home.

Of course, the best-laid plans have a habit of going awry. The Bluetooth headset in Raphael's ear sparked to life a moment later.

"Guys, we've got incoming," Mikey said.

"Incoming what?" Don asked as he flipped through Morgan's chart and checked her vitals.

"Dragons looks like," Michelangelo said. "Some sort of small mob."

"Probably a disturbance to draw off the police," Leo said through the headset. "I'm aborting our diversion and heading back. Seems like the enemy might have the same plan we do. Stay sharp team. If they've come for Morgan, the Dragons won't be alone."

"Don, is she ready to move?" Raph asked.

Donatello frowned as he disconnected her I.V. line and wrapped the blanket around her still form. "I think so, but it looks like one of the nurses gave her some sort of heavy sedative to help her sleep. She's gonna be pretty out of it if we can wake her at all."

"Don't bother," Leo said. "It'll be safer if she's asleep and not freaking out on the way down."

Raphael held open the large sling as Donatello lifted her from the bed and placed her inside. The contraption had been designed to hold a mutant turtle, and they were much larger than she. She was so small, even with the added bulk of the blanket to protect her from the winter chill, the soft leather enveloped her completely.

"Heads up guys," Michelangelo said. "The gang is gathering in front of the main entrance and making a lot of noise."

Leo slipped into the room as Raphael turned with the girl in his arms.

"Be ready Mikey," Leonardo said. "You move on my mark."

Don grabbed Morgan's chart, her clothes, and even the sheets off the bed. Removing anything with her scent, blood, or DNA; before hustling out with it all thrown over his shoulder in the duffle. He was halfway down the building before his brothers even connected the sling to the rope system. They suspended their precious bundle out the window and braced themselves to lower her carefully when the door behind them burst open.

It was not the FBI.

In fact, from their twisted position on the floor, those two particular agents were not going to rise again. The one glimpse Leonardo got of their faces before the onslaught of black-clad bodies blocked his view was enough to tell him the Foot had resorted to poison darts.

They were cleaning house and that meant leaving no witnesses. The nurses at the station down the hall were probably treated similarly; he thought with a twinge of regret. But these men had not anticipated encountering the two strongest turtle brothers in the girl's hospital room...

Or they would have brought more men.

Leo let go of his end of the rope and went into full combat mode. This made Morgan drop extremely fast and Raphael rapidly snaked the line around his arm to slow the plummeting bundle to a halt.

"Don!" Raph shouted into his headset over the melee, panic in his tone. "How far did she fall?"

"Two floors. You've got seven to go," Donnie said. "You can lower her quickly, but try to keep it smooth."

"Mikey," Leo said through clenched teeth as he battled, "now would be a good time."

"The Mike-ster's already here," Michelangelo said enthusiastically as the sound of tires screeching to a halt echoed up from the street below.

Raph threw a glare over his shoulder as his brother slammed into his elbow causing ten feet or so of rope to slip through his hands. Two of the Foot were down, and the growing pool of blood on the floor said Leonardo was not playing nice. His brother was wielding a long, wicked looking, tanto knife in the confined space, and he wasn't messing around, aiming not for debilitating strikes but for vital organs.

Neither were the Foot.

Shuriken and throwing knives were the next wave through the door. Leo hissed as one grazed the outside of his arm and he ducked two more. A sudden shout of horror distracted him as Raphael dove for the open window.

Leonardo turned in time to see a knife on a collision course with the single strand holding Morgan suspended. _What were the odds?_ He wondered absently. Raph tried to deflect it, but his range of motion was limited by the portion of rope still wrapped around his arm. He missed.

The next few seconds seemed to slow.

Leonardo watched the knife exit the window and slice cleanly through the line. He distinctly heard the snap as the slack recoiled back through the pulleys and into the room. He felt a sharp pain as Raphael fell back into his injured arm, still desperately hauling on his end of the now-weightless rope.

Time regained its normal flow and Leo recovered his footing, sliding across the floor to kick the door shut in the face of the next group of Foot before he spun to face his brother. Raph knelt with his head in his hands; so still he might have been a statue.

But stone hearts couldn't break.

For one tense moment, Leo's stomach clenched and he thought he might be sick. What could he say to one who had just lost the one thing that meant everything?

"I got her," Mikey said on the end of the line like a miracle from heaven.

"Say again?" Leonardo asked, not quite believing what he heard.

"I was half way up the building to help when the rope started going by way too fast. I grabbed it and lowered her to the ground. Don's putting her in the van."

Raphael looked up and Leo met his eyes. There was nothing in them. No sense, no purpose, no comprehension. He shoved a hand in his brother's direction, tugged on his arm and pulled him to his feet; guiding him toward the window around the mound of bodies on the floor.

"She's safe, Raph," Leonardo said. "We can break down afterward. Right now we need to get her out of here."

Raphael shook himself all over like a dog waking up and intelligence flooded back in his eyes. Seconds later, both brothers dove out the window, slipping and sliding their way down the facade to their family waiting below.

* * *

"How do they keep finding us?" Leonardo asked, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation as yet another dark tinted van cut them off and tried to force them to the side of the road.

Don avoided them by swerving into an alley barely wide enough for the Battle Shell. The metal sparked on either side screeching in protest as they shot out the other end and turned into a partially underground tunnel. They hadn't intended to travel this far uptown, but the Foot kept locating them with uncanny accuracy and chasing them all over the map. Donnie's evasive driving would shake them off for a few minutes, but before they could turn towards home another non-descript van would give chase.

"We must have brought something from the hospital they can track," Don said from the driver's seat.

"I've checked everything we took," Leo said. "Twice! If it's here I can't find it."

"Let's ditch her stuff," Michelangelo suggested, "then maybe we'll be able to shake them."

"We took those things so they wouldn't get her DNA, Mikey. I don't think we should hand 'em back to them," Raph said with a growl.

"We'll burn them," Leo said. Raph's gaze locked with his, silently protesting. "There's nothing we can't replace. It's clothes, sheets, and a disposable cell." After a moment, Raphael nodded. "Don, find a quiet spot with a metal trash bin," Leonardo ordered. "We'll keep this small and contained."

A few minutes later, as everyone played lookout for more enemies, a tidy blaze consumed the items Donnie stole from her hospital room. They even burned the sheet Morgan was wrapped in though they kept the blanket since she had nothing to wear. It, at least, was not suspect as they brought it themselves.

"Hello?"

The unexpected call from the Battle Shell behind them startled the group and Raph raced back to find Morgan blinking blearily and trying to sit up under the heavy cover. Instantly he was beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and checking her temperature with his palm.

"You're awake," he said as she freed one hand from the covers and patted his.

"Raphael," she said in vague relief. "Where are we? What happened?"

It was obvious to her they were in some sort of vehicle, but she couldn't remember how they had gotten here. She was about to ask again when she sensed the volume of the space change as the other three brothers piled in and the engine roared to life. Their aura's felt strained and no one was looking at her, except Raphael. His eyes never strayed as he held her close; bracing her against the sway as they drove.

She took an experimental sniff and caught the scent of blood in the confined air; some old, some fresh. It wasn't Raphael's, thankfully, but one of the others was definitely injured.

"What _happened_?" she asked again, trying to sound a little more firm, but with her voice rasping and her throat so sore, it was hard to form a clear sentence. "Who's hurt?"

"We're taking you home," Mikey said in an attempt to distract her. He kept his tone light as if they were out for an evening of cruising around, but the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife and Morgan wasn't fooled.

Michelangelo started to say something more, but Leonardo interrupted his brother with a soft curse as a far too familiar van slowed and turned into the alley behind them.

"We don't know it didn't work," Don said. "They may have followed the stuff here before it was destroyed. I'll lose them again then we'll wait and see." He sped up, taking the next few corners at high speed and with a few expertly executed evasive maneuvers he pulled away enough to get out of sight of their pursuers.

"Wait and see what?"

Morgan's question from the rear of the Battle Shell was slightly slurred, but she faced each of the brother's positions in the van unerringly and repeated it with growing desperation. "Wait and see what?"

Raph sighed and closed his eyes as Don pulled into an empty parking garage and stopped to determine whether or not they lost the enemy.

"The exit from the hospital didn't go quite as well as we, uh... planned." he said, unable to come up with a better explanation.

"What happened?"

She was trying hard to focus on the conversation, but Raph could tell from the way her pupils dilated and her voice faded in and out she wasn't all together with them. He was about to duck the question and reassure her when Mikey piped up evidently deciding she wasn't going to be soothed with partial answers.

"They keep _finding_ us somehow!" he said with irritation. "Even Donnie's smooth moves are only keeping us one step ahead of them."

Morgan's eyes widened in shock and alarm. "They? Who's following?" She asked in panic, "The FBI? Charlie? The Dragon's? The Foot?"

The last was asked in almost a sob and Raphael glared at Mikey, aiming a kick in his brother's direction, before he turned much softer eyes on Morgan. "It's ok, sweetheart. We got rid of anything they might be tracking. In a few more minutes, we'll be headed home."

She grabbed desperately at his arm, her eyes still huge with fright. "No, you didn't! I'm still here!" She said. "Donatello, keep moving! They're going to find us if we sit still."

Donatello responded to her tone and started the Battle Shell; peeling out down the ramp as Leo looked curiously at him in the mirror.

"She may know something we don't," Don said in a low voice, "and even if it is panic speaking, doing as she asks will calm her down."

Leonardo nodded and smoothly walked to the rear of the vehicle, despite Donnie's rather reckless swerving. He knelt in front of the shaking girl and laid one hand gently on her blanketed knee, ignoring Raph's angry look.

"Morgan," Leo said carefully, "What do _you_ think they are tracking?"

"Me," she whispered. "They are tracking me."

* * *

"Damn it!"

Charles Hargrove's voice rang out down the corridor as the caller brought him up to date on the combined Foot and Dragon forces hunting all over the city for the girl.

"I implanted a tracking device in the woman's neck and you still can't locate her?"

His anger was palpable and his assistant Julia backed surreptitiously out of reach as he thundered into the receiver. "My people would have had her gift wrapped by now. What's the problem?"

He listened in silence for a few moments, his face falling into creases of fury.

"I don't care if the signal is pinging every cell tower from here to Hong Kong! Get more men on the streets and check them all!"

He hung up on the protesting caller and flung the phone across the room where it struck the wall and shattered into pieces. His anger momentarily abated he merely turned a glare on Julia.

"The tracking beacon has been compromised. Send word to Hun I am holding him responsible. His agents should have chosen something harder to hack."

Julia nodded.

"Contact Doctor Carmichael and let the clinic know they won't be receiving their patient tonight." Charlie continued. "They can meet with Saki's pet scientist instead and show him the making of the serum. I think his name is Stockholm or something."

"Dr. Baxter Stockman?" Julia asked.

"That's the one. And do some research for me. Find out everything there is to know about this Hamato clan Saki keeps going on about. They may be the ones sheltering the girl. If so, I need to know where they are based. Maybe they can be bought, or blackmailed into returning the girl."

Julia nodded again and sashayed from the office, grateful to escape as Charlie settled back into his chair to await the next report.

* * *

Morgan drew in a deep breath and sighed in relief at the soothing scent of incense. The room was just as she had left it, aside from the new additions of some smaller medical equipment. And though less potent, Raphael's fragrance lingered on the bed linens comforting her further.

But it was Don who leaned over her now; adjusting her I.V. line and making sure it was not bound up in her covers. He rested a cool palm on her forehead and she smiled up at him gratefully.

"You are truly gifted, Donatello," she said as he drew his hand away. "I was so afraid tonight but you knew exactly what to do to disarm the tracking device. And I can't tell you how relieved I am to be back where you can take care of me." She shuddered. "Doctor's terrify me."

Tears welled up in her eyes and began to spill over.

"Don't think I don't know what happened," she choked out. "I was dying until you took over. You did CPR, called the ambulance, and got me to the hospital. I heard the nurses there talking. There was something wrong with my blood. I wasn't getting better, but suddenly I did. I'll bet you had something to do with that too."

Don flushed at the praise and was glad she couldn't see it. He patted her good shoulder. "It wasn't only me, sweetie. It took all of us working together."

She nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, calling out to him as he turned to go.

"Donatello?" she said.

"Please," he said, interrupting her, "Donatello is pretty formal between friends, call me Donnie."

She smiled again through her tears but it was uncertain and her lower lip trembled in a way that made Don's insides feel strange. His heart twisted at the loneliness her expression betrayed.

"Are we? Friends, I mean. I didn't want to presume because, I was an assignment, right?" she asked. But it was as if a dam had burst and she couldn't stop the words. She rushed on. "I feel close... connected, to each of you, but compatible auras affect me because of my weird talent. They're rare, you see? But I didn't want to assume, simply because I felt attached to you, you felt the same way and-"

"Morgan," Don cut her off again. "We are more than friends."

His voice throbbed with intensity and the moment he said it, he knew it was true. Gently he sat next to her on the bed, picked up her hand, and held it between his palms. "You haven't had many, have you?"

She shook her head.

"I've been... mostly alone. Children were always wary of me growing up and after my parents passed, Samantha was the closest friend I had," she said. "Even we didn't get to do too much together. My fault, really. I got wound up in Charlie. He was the first guy who seemed interested in me for more than a one night stand or a 'good time.' But you know how that turned out."

She turned away from him in shame. Don's face hardened at Charlie's name and he tightened his grip on her hand, ever so slightly, before reaching out to tilt her face in his direction. She hiccuped a little and her eyes were so sad he released her chin and touched her cheek gently.

"Hey," he said, "Charlie's in the past. You have us now and we will _never_ hurt you."

There was a moment of intense silence as they took the measure of one another. Finally Morgan spoke again.

"Donnie? Since we are friends, can I ask you an awkward question?"

He laughed at the expression on her face and the light flush gracing her cheeks.

"Is this about Raphael?" he teased.

"Sort of," she said, lowering her voice. "I know you are all male, but I don't know if you are... If he's interested in... Are we at all... compatible?" She asked at last with a hint of desperation.

Don's smile grew at her discomfiture. "You mean physically?"

She blushed even more and nodded ever so slightly.

"So am I to assume you are, at least, intrigued by the idea of pursuing something more with Raph?"

She tore her hand from his and batted at his arm in playful spite.

"Donnie!" she complained, a smile taking over her face, "Answer the question!"

"Well, as your doctor, I would advise you to avoid even _thinking_ about such strenuous activity until you have healed a lot more," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "But as your _friend_ , I will tell you we are definitely, as you say, compatible. Slightly different than humans, but a close enough match all the same."

Her expression became more serious and she sat up, startling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," she breathed next to his ear, "For saving my life. For being my friend. For everything."

He returned the hug gently, abruptly planning his own exit strategy as his insides again flip-flopped wildly. After a long moment, he released her with an admonishment to get some sleep then glided to the door and clicked off the overhead light. He turned one last time to stare at her as the glow of the fluorescents from the hall lit her pretty face. Her lips still held a gentle smile and his cheek burned where she had touched him.

He sighed heavily and slid the door quietly shut.


	24. Reactions

Raphael occupied the old, blue couch; his massive form taking up most of the available space as he threw his head back against the softness of the cushions and closed his eyes. Exhaustion was a constant companion, one he had been fighting against for days, but now he welcomed it with open arms. He desperately needed to rest, but he couldn't in the isolation of his room. After all they had been through in the past few days, it was too far from her for comfort.

He couldn't quite believe they had done it, successfully retrieved his angel, but since he placed her in the bed himself, leaving her in Donatello's competent hands, he guessed they actually had. He wouldn't have left her at all, but his brother's insistence he get some sleep had finally won him over.

Morgan was home at last. She was safe. She was _alive_.

For a single minute tonight he believed her gone and it was the worst 60 seconds of his life. It almost killed him. He'd had to put it immediately from his thoughts to concentrate on keeping her away from the Foot. But now he could not escape the moment in his mind. The pain he experienced swept over him again and he drew his knees in tight to his chest, curling into a ball. He fell over and clenched his eyes shut.

The universe seemed intent on destroying his beloved. He could see it all too easily. He shuddered, feeling the world collapse around him as, behind his closed eyes, Morgan succumbed to death over and over.

She went down from a one-two punch in a dark alley, never to rise again from a broken neck. Tears coated her cheeks and she stepped off the top of her multi-story apartment building in overwhelming despair. She was throttled, her life crushed out by a thug's huge hands as he screamed from the sidelines. She bled out in the back of a dark van while two uncaring punks laughed over her body. She shuddered in his arms and stopped breathing. She drifted away into a coma and never woke. She plummeted from a nine-story window, after trusting him with her life.

Tragedy after tragedy claimed her in his mind's eye and he could do nothing. His body spasmed in the throes of death and despair as her torments wore on. Worse than any torture he ever endured, each scenario painted a picture far too close to being the truth.

Grief was an emotion Raphael was not prepared to deal with; aborted grief, doubly so. There was nothing he could fight; he couldn't push it away. His strength was useless. Anger could not stave off this horrible feeling of loss and impending doom. There was nothing to avenge.

Pain he did not know how to direct clenched every muscle in his body tight until his bones ached with suppressed sentiment. His face froze in a rictus of suffering. Perhaps there was a way to ease this agony, but _he_ could not seem to find it.

A warm, gentle hand settled itself on him without warning. Long fingers stroked intricate patterns over the top of his head. Patterns that created soothing echos in his thoughts, guiding him to more peaceful contemplation. Patterns as familiar to him as breathing, though he hadn't felt them in years.

He did not protest, or even open his eyes, as Splinter seated himself and gathered him close; holding him as if he were small again. He simply rested his head in his father's lap and cried.

The patterns continued to weave their spell; trailing down his neck and across his shell. Allowing him to let go as he had not done since he was little. Through it all his father held him, saying nothing.

Nothing needed to be said.

* * *

Donatello, Leonardo, and Michelangelo sat around the kitchen table, each with their comfort beverage of choice. Despite the late hour, Donnie had a large mug of dark, fragrant, french-roast coffee; its rich scent almost as soothing as its flavor to the emotionally overwrought genius.

Leo had green tea in a delicate flowered cup almost too small for his hand; Splinter's special blend. It reminded him of calm moments spent with his Sensei before meditation.

Michelangelo sipped straight from the top of a two-liter bottle of soda; letting the sugar and the familiar tingle of bubbles on his tongue take him away from the tension of the evening.

For a long time, they rested in a companionable silence, each relishing the fact they had returned from yet another death-defying situation and were still together. Eventually, however, Donatello broke it.

"Thank god the nurse sedated Morgan," he said, setting his drink aside and rubbing his hand over his face. He scrubbed at his eyes for a moment. "She would have died of fright otherwise. Her system is too fragile to handle any more shocks, and that fall..."

"I'm not sure _I_ took it well," Leonardo said in a rare moment of confession. "When the rope snapped, I thought we'd lost Raphael." He paused and winced as a soft sob emanated from the living room and echoed into the kitchen. "I never want to see that expression on his face again. It was so _empty_. For a second, he was absolutely _gone_ and I wasn't sure he was going to come back."

Leo turned and laid a hand on Mikey's arm. "You saved them both tonight."

Michelangelo flushed, his cheeks turning a darker green at the compliment from his brother and leader. "Well, I couldn't let her fall," he said, shrugging. "She's my friend."

"We need to keep reminding her of that," Don said. "I asked her to call me Donnie this evening and she practically fell apart. The poor thing has been alone for far too long. Feeling safe and," his eyes darted to the living room, "loved, will heal her considerably more rapidly than anything I can do."

"What about Raph's blood?" Mikey asked. "Didn't you say it could help her?"

Don sighed and rubbed his face again. "It may. I've never seen anything like the reaction I got when I put their two samples together. I'd like to study it a little more and get a few extra eyes on it before I go experimenting on Morgan."

Leonardo nodded.

"She might need another course of _our_ blood, though," Don said. "If you guys are up to donating a little more."

Both of them readily agreed.

"You don't even have to ask," Leo said. His gaze, locked on Donnie's, was so intense it was almost violent. "We'll give her whatever she needs."

"She's different, isn't she?" Mikey said after a beat. "Not like April, I mean. Maybe it's cause she's younger than us, or cause she accepted us so readily, but for some reason I don't think of her as a human. She's not a turtle, but she's like the little sister we never had."

"I rather think Raph considers her more than that," Leo said. "I hope she returns his affections. She seems to, but I suppose it can't be easy. We're not human. She's probably struggling with all kinds of conflicting thoughts about him, even if she does like him."

"I'm not entirely sure she's human either," Don said. "I've never read or heard of anyone with her talents outside of a comic book. The spatial location awareness and even the chameleon-like way she camouflages her skin I could almost see as an evolutionary adaptation; a natural mutation. But her other abilities are more like science fiction. Aural reading and her odd blood make me wonder about her origin species. If her DNA didn't have such firm human markers, I might be tempted to classify her as alien."

"Well, _we_ know that's not outside the realm of possibility," Leo said, springing to her defense, "but I don't think that's a reason to reject her."

"We're just as sci-fi-esque as she is," Mikey said with a frown. "She fits right in."

"Oh, I'm not looking for reasons to throw her out!" Donnie said, holding his hands forward in a peaceful gesture. "In fact, I feel a strong urge to shelter and protect her. It worried me at first, but I think you guys are reacting the same way."

His brothers stared at him, not sure what he was implying.

"Think about it," Don said. "All of us, even Sensei, accepted her into our home without question after a very short period of time. We don't normally do that. Leo, you had a violent reaction to reading the FBI report on her abuse and went out of your way to deter that creep from sniffing around. Mikey, you two took up like you were best friends from the moment she got here."

"Do you think everyone reacts this way to her?" Leonardo asked.

Don shook his head.

"If that were true she would not be lonely, and Charlie wouldn't have been able to hold her more than five minutes. His own men would have revolted against him to protect her. No, whatever pull she has is fairly specific."

"You think she's manipulating us somehow?" Leo frowned, his eyes going wide in horror at the thought. "Shit. That would destroy Raph!"

"No," Don answered. "She objected to us going out of our way for her, and her reaction to Raphael being even mildly injured was devastation. No, she cares for him.

He sighed and wracked his brain for a better way to describe what he meant. "I believe our emotions are our own, simply accelerated; as if we've known her for years instead of a few weeks."

Leonardo relaxed a little and sat back into his seat, relieved that, for once, everything was as it seemed.

"She is aware of her draw though," Don continued. "Tonight she told me she felt 'connected' to us all. She called us compatible auras and said it was rare."

Mikey smiled. "So she might wanna stay with Raph and be my little sister after all," he exclaimed. "I can teach her all about the sewers, what we do, give her skateboarding lessons and take care of her!"

Even though he was weary and worried, Donnie laughed.

"You'll make an excellent big brother, Mikey."

* * *

Exhaustion eventually claimed Raphael and his father left him tucked up on the couch with a blanket. But his sleep was fitful and his dreams were haunted.

He was _somewhat_ soothed by the familiar sounds of the lair; the drip of water and the rattle of the nearby trains did not disturb him from his uncomfortable slumber. But a slight gasp and a muffled whimper drove him to his feet in an instant.

Without conscious thought, he faded into the shadows and examined the room. It was dim, the night light from the kitchen being the sole illumination, but it only took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Everyone had sought their beds and _should_ be soundly sleeping. Nothing moved within his line of sight. Again he scanned the darkness, wondering what had disturbed him.

He squinted toward the meditation room and panic swept through him when he realized the door was open.

 _Had someone made it past all their security?_

Stealthily, he glided across the floor; his footsteps making no sound. He peered inside. The room was empty. Where was Morgan? It felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice water into his shell. His blood chilled and his heart raced until a small voice spoke up.

"I didn't mean to wake you," it said and gave a frustrated sigh.

She was halfway down the hall, facing away from him. She sat on the floor and leaned wearily against the wall. She was concealed so well, his frantic eyes passed over her twice before he made out her slumped form in the shadows. As soon as he realized what he was seeing, he was by her side. He knelt next to her and eyed her from head to toe.

"Are you alright?" His voice was strained and stress made it rough. "What happened?"

"My own stupidity," she said. A tiny, self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips and she blushed, closing her eyes and tapping her head lightly against the wall in embarrassment.

"Morgan," he said, interposing his hand between her and the hard red bricks, "stop that. What happened?" he repeated, growing more agitated when she refused to speak. "If ya don't tell me what's wrong this instant I'm gonna wake Don to do a full workup!"

"I need to go to the bathroom, OK?" she said in a frustrated hiss, totally exasperated and embarrassed all over again. "There aren't any nurses here, so I have to get to the facilities myself."

There was a long pause as Raphael blinked owlishly at her, his mind fogged with fatigue. Clearly, he did not understand. "Why didn't ya wake me?" he asked.

"You've been guarding me every moment since I got hurt. You need sleep," she said. "Besides, it's not very romantic to make your boyfriend carry you to the toilet, is it? I thought I could make it on my own, with a few short rest stops, but apparently I wasn't quiet enough."

He took a deep breath as relief so potent it made him dizzy swept over him, flooding his senses with her scent. His heart kept thudding against his chest, but now it was for a different reason.

 _Boyfriend? She's worried about what I think of her romantically?_

A powerful mix of euphoria and adrenaline hit his system, clearing his mind. Now that he wasn't overwhelmed by panic he almost chuckled at her plaintive tone. He smiled trying to suppress the reaction and lifted her up off the floor, pressing her close to his chest and inhaling her unique scent again.

"You can't sneak past a ninja, sweetheart," he said to distract her from the embarrassment. "It's sorta against the code."

"Really?" she said, and a hint of challenge crept into her voice. "You just wait until I'm all healed up. I bet I can make it by you."

Her tone and the boyfriend reference made him bold.

"I can think of some other games I'd rather spend time playing," he said.

She blushed again and he chuckled, striding swiftly down the hall to the 'facilities' she so desperately needed. He lowered her feet to the floor and supported her as she wobbled in, but she pushed him away.

"You, stay here," she ordered and shut the door in his face.

He propped his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms, waiting. Each word of their brief conversation replaying in his head. Despite her pain and trauma, she was still thinking about him; about _them_.

Butterflies churned in his stomach as he truly began to consider the possibility of a 'them'. Previously it had been so hypothetical he hadn't thought about the consequences. Would dating be feasible? Even if she wasn't being hunted, he was restricted to nocturnal roamings, and part of that time had to be dedicated to the team. He could not leave his family undefended.

What about later? If things progressed, he would want to be with her more and more. Hell, he wanted to be with her all the time already! He wouldn't be able to stay with her topside, and he couldn't ask her to give up her life on the surface to live down here with him. She'd been in captivity long enough.

His previous elation faded. Their lives were dangerous and there was no way he could guarantee her safety. If any of their many enemies caught wind of his relationship, she would suffer.

The price was too high. She deserved so much more than a mutant who could only come out at night. She should be treated like a queen. It wasn't right to keep her penned up down here in the dark.

Reluctantly, he came to the conclusion there shouldn't be a 'them'.

But could he stand aside? When all this was over and Charlie was dead and she was safe again, could he let her go? Return her to the world above? Watch over her secretly and stay out of her life? Not if he let himself get any more wrapped up in her. They were already too close.

By the time she finished and exited the bathroom, his face was grim, but if she noticed his change of mood as he lifted her again and returned to her room, she didn't say anything. He still held her carefully, but not as near as before, keeping a cautious space between their bodies. All his playful banter had disappeared as he laid her in bed and reached over to reconnect her I.V. line.

Without a word, he turned to go.

"Raphael, would you stay?" she asked. "I know it's not a typical 'date', chatting in the middle of the night, but there's so much I want to know about you. And seeing as how it's going to be a little while before I'm well enough to do anything else... I'd love to fill in some blanks."

He was going to leave, but the sound of his name on her lips stopped him cold. She never called him Raph. She always pronounced it fully and when she said it, it felt like a caress; like music calling to his soul. He couldn't simply walk out on her.

She deserved an explanation; for tonight, and all the nights to come.

"Morgan... I can't."

His voice was practically a growl and it was most definitely not the pleasant rumbling she was beginning to associate with him. He refused to turn at her startled gasp. He couldn't bear to look at her and his hands clenched into fists.

"I should have stopped this before. In fact, I never shoulda asked in the first place. An 'us'... is impossible."

The heart monitor in the corner, the one connected wirelessly to a bracelet she wore tight around her wrist, skipped a beep and then sped up.

"What?" she whispered. The devastation in her voice was like a punch in the gut. "Why?"

His throat closed. He couldn't bring himself to say anymore. If he stayed any longer he would never be able to go. He lowered his head and marched stiffly from the room.

Morgan sat stunned as the door slid shut. What had she done to make him abandon her? Her blood turned to ice in her veins. He must have learned the truth, discovered the nature of her defilement. He didn't want someone like her, someone who had been spoiled. He deserved better.

Charlie's evil laugh echoed in her mind. "I told you," he said seductively. "You're no good for anyone now except me."

The sound that tore from her throat was that of a dying animal; one wounded through the heart. All conscious thought fled as she was assaulted by her memories.

* * *

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?"

The whole lair reverberated with Donatello's furious shout and half of New York could probably hear him, but Don didn't care. He'd been jolted out of bed by the squeal of the heart monitor flat-lining and almost had a heart attack himself.

"LOOK AT HER!" Donnie exclaimed as Raph stared at the wretched young woman in Michelangelo's arms. The red-banded turtle's face paled, his knees gave, and he sank to the sofa.

Mikey was holding an unconscious and bloody Morgan protectively against himself in the nearby recliner. He glared and twisted so his shell blocked his brother's sight line. He knew she could tell when eyes were on her, and even though she wasn't awake he wanted to protect her from an unwanted gaze.

Don had raced downstairs at the alarm, braced to handle a major medical emergency only to discover his friend standing in the center of the meditation room in hysterical tears. She'd ripped off her monitoring bracelet, her I.V., and wrist brace. She was struggling to pull on clothes so she could leave. She was so unstable she fell to her knees twice trying to get her things.

Donnie called to her, begging her to tell him what was wrong, but she didn't seem to recognize him or even hear his questions. She was completely distraught and locked in some sort of traumatic memory loop. Fearing for her safety, he gently tried to restrain her and bring her back to bed.

That opened a whole new can of worms.

The second she felt the mattress under her back she turned into a hellcat, fighting him so hard the stitches in her wounds tore. Blood she couldn't afford to lose ran from her shoulder as she clawed at him and half her face was covered in red as the precious fluid seeped through her bandages.

Don yelled for Raph, hoping his presence would calm her, but it was Leo and Mikey who came bolting through the door to see them struggling. Finally, they managed to get her pinned and Donnie made it to his bag of meds. Moments later, she went limp and collapsed as the sedative he injected took effect. Almost immediately she began to mumble and moan. Even unconscious, her mind was tormented and strangely Raph was nowhere to be found.

"Worthless," Morgan murmured in a whisper, "Raphael... So sorry..."

That was enough info for the genius to make certain assumptions. His brother had done something stupid and hadn't stayed to weather the consequences. Well, Don was going to force him to see what he had accomplished. He summoned the hot-head back to the lair, at speed, by the simple expedient of activating the panic mode on his phone.

Raphael evidently hadn't gone far, perhaps just out of earshot down the tunnel. In moments he burst through the door, weapons barred, and Donatello launched his verbal attack.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Don raged. "She TRUSTED you! She LOVES you and you're destroying her. I thought you CARED! I told her we would never hurt her, but you- you..."

"Take a breath, Donnie," Leo said. His voice was calm but his eyes were cold as he turned them on Raph. "I'm sure he has an explanation."

"What did she do?" Raphael asked in a horrified whisper.

"Whatever YOU did triggered an attack of PTSD," Don muttered. He stomped to his supplies and gathered clean gauze, bandages and medical tape as well as disinfectant and his suture kit.

Raph winced when he saw the needle and dropped his head in his hands.

"She was incoherent and confused," Donnie continued, deliberately rubbing in her condition. "She thought we were assaulting her when we tried to comfort her and she fought back." He peeled the gauze off Morgan's cheek and hissed at what he saw. "She's pulled four of the eight stitches here and certainly ripped a few in her arm as well, so I'll ask you again. What did you do?"

"I told her there couldn't be an 'us'," he mumbled to the floor.

His answer fell into dead silence. When Raphael raised his head three pairs of eyes met his with varying looks of complete astonishment and incomprehension.

"Why would you DO that, bro?" Michelangelo asked at last.

"I don't know, Mikey," Raph said sarcastically, getting angry. He lept to his feet and paced away. "Possibly because our lives are dangerous? I can't be with her up top without puttin' her in harm's way. She'd be in constant peril from our enemies. Can you imagine what would happen if they had a bargaining chip like her? All they'd need to do is threaten her and I'd surrender in a heartbeat." He shook his head in frustration. "An' she can't stay down here forever. It'd be too cruel to lock her away from the world just to be with me. Alone, after Charlie's gone, she can go back to the surface and have a normal life."

Donatello choked on a bitter laugh and had to stop working on Morgan for a moment to regain his composure.

"I don't recall sayin' somethin' funny, brainiac," Raph growled.

Leonardo and Don exchanged a glance and the genius shrugged wearily before turning back to his work with a sigh. "It's my fault as much as yours. I asked the others not to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Raphael asked, his blood running cold.

"She can't go back to a normal life," Leo said. "Not that her life was before-"

"Why?" Raph's question cut him off. Dread pooled in his stomach as his older brother caught and held his gaze.

"Because the client still wants her."

"So what? When Charlie's gone they'll never know what happened to her."

"Unfortunately, they already know who she is and they have the resources to take her at any time if she stays on the surface."

"Enough beating around the bush, Leo. Who is it? I'll take them out of the picture. She can still be happy."

"She was happy when she thought she could be with you!" Mikey said.

"So was I!" Raph exclaimed. "You think it was easy to tell her no and walk away?" He made a noise of deep frustration. "Somebody spit it out!" He said with a growl. "Who was she bound for?"

"Shredder," Don said.

"Bullshit."

Raph's denial was immediate and unshakeable. Even Fate would not be so bold. It was bad enough she was tortured, but his angel could not be destined for their arch enemy. The Shredder was a foe he could not easily remove. Not even for her.

Leo sighed, went to Don's lab and came back holding two pieces of paper with photos on them. He handed the first one to Raphael. "Remember this?"

"That's a sword we took off old Shred-head," Raph said. "What of it?"

"See the symbol on the pommel?"

"Yeah, I've seen it on other things. 'Oroku's private property' or some such. He likes to mark his territory."

As the words left his mouth, the sick feeling in his stomach doubled and he reached more slowly for the other piece of paper. A painful looking brand of the same symbol on soft white porcelain skin met his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Raph... It's burned into Morgan."


	25. Done with me

He barely made it to the kitchen before the retching started.

Raphael grabbed the barrel of the trash bin in both hands and emptied the contents of his stomach noisily into its depths. God, he wished he could unsee that. He desperately wanted to strike the horrible image, the mark of the Shredder burned into her fair skin, from his mind.

But he couldn't.

Leonardo materialized beside him and laid a reassuring hand on his shell.

"If it helps," his brother said, "she doesn't know what it means."

Raph scrubbed a hand over his mouth. He yanked his mask down around his neck and went to the sink to splash some water on his face.

"And she ain't gonna," he replied fiercely, turning to fix his brothers with a cold, hard stare. Each returned his scrutiny with a firm nod. "She already lives in fear, every single moment, that the Foot are coming for her. I ain't gonna let anything add to it."

Morgan whimpered and Raphael moved quickly back into the living room, settling himself as close as Michelangelo would allow. His younger brother was still glaring and he didn't want to push it, but he was dying to have her back in his arms.

He stared at her beautiful face, contorted in pain and fear. His fury ignited, but he only had himself to blame. He groaned mentally as he faced what he had done. He'd hurt her bad. It began with good intentions but as they say, the road to Hell is paved with them. In the end, he'd injured her for nothing.

"How long is she gonna be out?" he asked in a subdued voice.

Donatello sighed. "It's the second time she's been sedated in 24 hours, her body's had a shock, and she lost some more blood. My guess is until around noon tomorrow, but who knows? She might wake sooner."

Raph nodded, his eyes locked on her face. Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned as Don continued to restitch her shoulder. It didn't take the genius long to finish up and cover his work with fresh bandages. Leonardo changed her bloody bed linens and Mikey rose to take her back to her room.

Raphael stood with him and silently held out his arms. The hot-head was never good with words, but his eyes begged Michelangelo to understand; to let him take her and try to make amends.

His youngest brother narrowed his eyes and leaned in close to whisper intently in his ear.

"If you ever hurt her like that again," Mikey said, his voice low and for once totally serious. "I will personally kick your shell from one end of this island to the other."

Raph winced at the venom in his little brother's tone, but he deserved it. When Mikey was sure he got the message, he surrendered his burden and let a mournful Raphael carry her back into her room for the third time that night.

Don followed and as soon as she was settled on the newly made bed, reapplied the medical equipment. He disappeared for few minutes and came back with a bag of blood which he added to the drip.

"Mine," he said in answer to Raph's questioning gaze. "I put a few pints away before tonight's mission in case there was a need." He cleared his throat and continued. "When she wakes, she may be disoriented. She will definitely be in pain. Try to keep her calm and give her these," Don set a small cup with some pills on the table. "I'm going back to bed, but if you have trouble or she doesn't want you around, call me."

Raph flinched at that directive but nodded anyway. She might not want him nearby. After all, he'd walked out without giving her a reason for her broken heart. There was no telling what she imagined as the cause.

Don paused at the door and gave Raphael a searching look. The naked pain on his brother's face softened his set expression.

"Next time you have one of those notions, talk to us first, ok?"

His soft admonishment brought the ghost of a smile to Raph's lips. "You'll be the first one I come to."

The moment Donnie left his expression faded and his eyes darted back to Morgan. Guilt hit him hard as he examined her new bandages. He should have foreseen this. She was fragile. Don had warned him and he had already seen the violence of her hysteria first hand. Even if his decision hadn't been dead wrong, now wasn't the time to break such news.

He was a fool. As usual, he had acted on impulse, but this time it may have ruined the delicate relationship they were forging. Exhausted and devastated he sank to the floor near her bed, resting his shell against her mattress.

He cringed as she moaned again. This time she did not fall silent.

"Raphael," she begged in a low broken voice, "please..."

His head snapped around and his eyes locked on her face. She was unconscious but wrapped in the pain of his exit. He didn't know if she could hear him, but he turned and began to stroke her hair, whispering reassurance to her restless form.

"I'm so sorry, angel. I should have stayed."

The silky feeling of her hair was intoxicating and he ran his hands through it over and over, watching with fascination as the curls slipped through, then wrapped around, his fingers.

"It was one of those stupid ideas that seemed right at the time."

Was it his imagination or did she nestle her head closer to his stroking palm? She seemed to be calming at the sound of his voice, so he continued.

"I thought you'd be safer if we weren't... connected. There are a lot of bad guys after us, my family and me, and I didn't wanna expose ya to them. So I lied. I told ya there couldn't be an us, let ya think I didn't want it. But nothing could be further from the truth. I'm addicted to ya."

She whimpered slightly and he moved his hand to her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin lightly, feeling the tingle race from his hand up his arm. Yes, he needed this; to be close to her. Like a junkie getting his fix, he couldn't stop himself from touching her.

When she woke, she might refuse him.

"I won't let anything happen to ya, sweetheart," he whispered. "Even if ya can't forgive me, I'll find a way to stay close. You'll never be alone and anytime ya need me, I'll be there."

He let his eyes run softly over her from head to toe, memorizing everything he could, wishing he could take back the last few hours. How could he have believed, even for a moment, he could walk away from her?

"You'll know I'm never far. You'll hear my voice in the night, feel my eyes burnin' on ya; cause there's no way I can stay away..."

* * *

Morgan woke in pain.

A thousand needles pricked her face and her shoulder was on fire yet she didn't move; didn't utter a sound; didn't even change the rhythm of her breathing. She lay on her side, bruised wrist lightly tucked under her good cheek, on the edge of her pallet.

It was a good thing she was small for the main expanse was taken up by a much larger form. A form whose presence soothed all her worries and allowed her to ignore fleeting things like pain. Pain was relative and she'd had worse.

Raphael had returned to her.

They lay side-by-side, bodies touching from shoulder to knee. He rested his head on one arm, his chin nestled in the crook of her neck, breathing softly in her ear. His vast bulk sheltered her back as he cradled her gently against him. His knees, bent almost double to fit in her small bed, tucked in behind hers and his free hand lay on the curve of her hip.

She didn't know why he lay there with her, but in the first moments of waking, pain and confusion made her grateful he was. Despite her resolved to not disturb him, she must have twitched or made some small sound for he tensed behind her and she knew he was awake.

Raphael woke in heaven.

Like the pull of gravity, her attraction for him remained unabated. As the night had progressed he found himself drawing closer and closer to her. Simply sitting at her bedside was no longer enough. She was irresistible, and like the addict he was, he gave in to his desires; creeping onto her bed to lay by her side.

The remainder of the night, he held her close, swearing never to make her doubt again and despite evil dreams, it had been the most restful sleep he'd had in months. Each time he started awake, her scent and soft, warm presence eased him back into peaceful slumber.

He'd intended to remove himself before she regained consciousness, but her proximity was so calming he slept in. Now he was in trouble, for she was definitely aware.

The tension in his body was the only warning she had. Abruptly he rolled away from her launching himself into the room as if her touch burned. She bit back a sob. Why did he keep leaving her? She knew her past was awful, but if that was the issue, why had he returned?

She turned to face him and hissed in pain as her shoulder protested even that tiny movement. Her brows drew in as she tried to piece together what was going on.

"Raphael?"

"I'm here," he replied from the other side of the room.

He sounded guilty like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I thought you'd gone," she said. "Was it just a horrible dream?"

For a moment, he thought about lying. It would be so much easier if she believed his mistake a nightmare, but he couldn't do it.

"No. I walked away," he said. The confession left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Morgan, I-"

She held up a hand, stopping his words. She didn't want meaningless apologies or explanations and honestly, she couldn't figure out why, after walking out so suddenly last night, he would return. Her heart told her to quit being an idiot. He was back and she should welcome him with open arms.

Her mind had other ideas. She struggled into a sitting position.

She was better this morning. On firmer emotional ground. She didn't think she was going to go off the deep end, but she wasn't at all sure she could handle more of this conversation. Rather, she craved one, or more, of his brothers presences. She could do with a dose of Leonardo's calm or Donnie's logic and she definitely needed cheering up. That would be Mikey's department.

"I have questions," she said. "But I don't want all the answers now. I only need one. Are you done with me?"

The raw pain in her voice made him want to rip his heart out. He had torn her up inside. Now he had to try to put her back together again.

"No." His reply was deep, emphatic, and desperate.

He rushed across the room and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in both of his. His scent surrounded her and her head reeled. With great difficulty, she pulled away. Her expressive face and huge, liquid eyes said she did not believe him. Tears were gathering in the corners and she turned away before she spoke. She was so quiet he leaned in to hear.

"Honestly? You didn't look at those records and realize I can't be all you need?"

"Who said you weren't?" Raphael said. "Angel, you're more than I ever dreamed of."

"But, the reports... the things I've done-"

He shook his head rapidly then realized she couldn't see it. Desperately he snatched up her palm and held it against his cheek so she could feel the denial.

"It had nothing to do with that. I haven't seen those stupid reports, sweetheart. I was tryin' to protect ya. I thought I was doin' the right thing, but I was wrong."

She took her hand from his grasp again and reluctantly he let her go. She had a right to be angry. She probably didn't want to touch him.

"Read them." Her tone was flat and dead.

"What? Why?"

"Because I can't- we can't - continue if I'm living in fear of those words changing the way you feel about me."

She shuddered, her whole body shaking in reaction and hissed when it pulled the stitches in her shoulder, but she pushed his concerned hands away.

"Read them," she commanded again. "Get Donnie to give you everything he has. Don't skip anything. It's not all there, but it's enough. When you've finished we'll talk and then we'll see if you're done with me."

"Morgan, It's not going to change anything," he said.

She faced him for a moment and a single tear ran down her cheek.

"I wish I could believe that," she murmured as she curled up and lay down on the bed again. "Could you send Donnie in? I don't feel so well."

And she closed her eyes.


	26. Magnetism

**Magnetism**

Donatello slumped over his computer with a cup of coffee, trying to jumpstart his brain. He hadn't slept much. Anger churned in his mind all night, making it impossible for him to shut down; or perhaps it was the eleventh-hour French Roast. Regardless, this was only the latest in a series of sleepless nights and he usually dealt with the consequences better.

He frowned at his own irritation, glaring into the cup clenched in his hand as if it were responsible. The hot, black liquid mocked him. They were out of cream and that added to his testy mood.

Raphael abruptly stormed into his lab, startling him and causing the beverage to splash. He hissed from the slight burn and stuck his thumb in his mouth; glaring at his brother.

"What is it?" he asked.

"She needs to see you," Raph said through clenched teeth. His breathing was labored and his hands were fists. "She says she's not well."

Donnie stared at him a moment, before dropping his eyes.

 _Morgan wants to see me?_

A mix of elation and trepidation surged through him. It was a heady feeling, considering her fear of doctors, for her to ask him to treat her. It meant he was gaining her trust. But worry followed close behind. By his calculations, she should only just be waking and if she'd already sent Raph away... things were not going well between them.

Don sighed but started moving, gathering his medkit, more antibiotics, and several other supplies. As he packed the bag, however, he realized his brother hadn't shifted. Raph stood perfectly still, leaning on the table with both fists, head bowed.

Stillness was not something Donatello associated with Raphael, especially when angry or upset. It was wrong in a way he couldn't define. His mind flashed back to Leonardo's words last night. "For a second he was just gone and I wasn't sure he was going to come back."

Slowly, his anger faded and he stopped to walk back to his brother, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Raph? Did something else happen?"

The normally hard-hearted Raphael shuddered under his palm.

"It's worse than I thought, Donnie," he whispered without looking up. "I'm not sure she'll take me back."

"Did you explain? Apologize?"

"I tried, but it never comes out right when she's awake. Everything got all twisted up," he said with a sigh. "I ain't good for nothing except whispers in the dark."

"Maybe she needs a little time," Don said. "She's in a lot of physical pain and that isn't helping the situation. I'm sure she'll come around when she's had a chance to think about things."

Raph shook his head. Emotionally he was in free fall. It felt like his world was ending. Darkness pressed in on every side and he didn't know how to fight back, how to combat the sorrow and regret swallowing him whole.

"I lost her trust. One minute I led her on, the next I shut her down."

He raised his head and the flat expression in his eyes frightened Donatello more than facing a platoon of Foot soldiers on his own.

"I can only do what she's asked and hope it makes a difference. I need her. I can't do this alone anymore."

"This?"

"Live, Donnie. She's my source of strength. Without her touch, I'm lost... If she won't take me back-" he cut himself off. "Don, I need to see the records you gathered."

Donatello sat down abruptly and stared at his older brother over the top of his computer monitor, disbelief written all over his face.

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

"I have too. It's the only way she'll believe in me. I have to know so I can tell her it doesn't matter."

"Oh," Don said, falling silent for a little while. "Can I make a suggestion?"

"What?"

"Read it somewhere empty, where nothing's breakable."

* * *

Donatello slid the door to the dojo shut, leaving Raphael with a folder full of printouts and a sinking feeling before hurrying across the lair to Morgan's room. He stopped outside as a small sob forced its way through the pale rice shoji screen and hit him like a punch in the gut.

Resting his palm on the door jam, he bowed his head.

 _Can I bear to see her like this?_

His stomach twisted and his heart sank. He had to. She needed a friend, a confidant, a comforting presence. He couldn't deny her, not when she'd asked for his help. He took one more moment to steady himself then knocked on the panel.

"Come in."

He let himself in, making sure to slide the screen shut behind him before facing her. She was turned to the wall, curled on top of the bedcovers wearing black yoga pants and a pale blue shirt. The same clothes she'd struggled into last night during her flashback. Her feet were bare, her hair a mess and, from the heaving of her shoulders, she was crying.

Don winced, set down his bag and sat gingerly on the end of the pallet; reaching out rather awkwardly to pat her foot. It was icy. Not surprising since it was late January. Even though he had improved the winterizing of the lair this year, boosting the capacity of the heater, it was still too cold for warm-blooded beings to be running around sans footwear.

Without thinking, he grasped her ankle and drew it up across his lap, chafing his hands over her toes; trying to warm them. He automatically moved them to her sole, falling into the massaging rhythm he'd perfected after years of treating his brothers for sprains and strains.

Slowly her breathing calmed and, as he reached for her other foot, she turned a little to face him. When he clasped it in his warm palms a strange tingle ran up through his hands. He wanted to take a moment to examine it, but she let out a soft little moan as his hands found the points of tension. It distracted him and he paused, searching her face, wondering if his actions were inappropriate.

But reflexology, manipulating the feet for medical benefit, had been around for hundreds of years and if it helped her relax... Well, she deserved some relief. The past ten days held so many traumas for her, he'd lost count. Gently, he began his motions again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He kept his gaze on her feet so she wouldn't be pressured into saying anything she didn't want to. A soft sigh and a sniffle answered him so he glanced back up at her face. Her large eyes were bloodshot and teary; her tiny pixie nose bright red. Her cheeks were flushed a pale rose and lines of pain were etched across her face. His eyes hardened and his mouth thinned to a flat line as his anger at Raphael flared again, but his voice was gentle.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Looking deliberately away, he squinched his eyes shut, trying to erase the image of her agony from his mind's eye.

"I am an idiot, Donnie," she blurted out, closing her own eyes as new tears began to trickle down. She covered her face with her palms. "I don't know why I thought we had a connection... I asked you that stuff the other day because..." she interrupted herself with a sob, "I thought he was interested in me. At least a little."

A small growl rumbled in the back of Don's throat, but he choked it off. Part of the blame for her pain belonged to him. If he hadn't been trying to protect Raphael, Morgan wouldn't be hurting. He set her feet gingerly back on the bed and scooted a little closer to her head, removing her palms from her face.

"You are not an idiot," he said, "And you weren't wrong. Raph is interested. More than interested. In fact, I'd say he's borderline obsessed."

She shook her head. "He walked out without any discussion. He didn't even glance at me."

"Raphael made a rash decision. I wish I could tell you he doesn't do it often, but I'm afraid he has a tendency to leap before he looks."

"Maybe he never wanted me," she said bitterly, "But he didn't know how to tell me no."

"You're wrong." Donatello's quiet voice was firm. "He adores you. He has trouble expressing himself, but he'd rip the moon from the sky if you asked."

She sat up and scooted closer to his side. "You think so?"

He wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her in a sideways hug.

"I know so. You couldn't know, of course, what he was like before, but he's focused on you to the exclusion of everything else since day one."

She leaned her head on his shoulder and relaxed a little, letting out a small sigh and closing her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him, returning the hug.

"I'm so confused. I don't know what to do. He's driving me crazy."

Donatello closed his eyes again, his own face a mask of pain she couldn't see. _She_ was driving _him_ crazy. What was the matter with him? This was his brother's girlfriend! The being Raph admitted he'd die without. He released her and scooted back, putting a careful distance between them. It was agonizing, like going through withdrawal, but he couldn't, he wouldn't, let this happen.

"He drives us all a little crazy," he said to distract himself.

"That's not what I meant, exactly."

"Oh?"

"After what happened with Charlie, I swore off romantic relationships. I couldn't conceive of a time I would want anyone to ever touch me again. But Raphael's scent, it goes straight to my brain and triggers my libido. Every sense I have focuses on him and when he makes that sound..."

She shuddered and her face flushed again, but this time from lust and embarrassment rather than pain and sorrow. "Sorry," she mumbled, dropping her face. Donnie's cheeks heated as well, and he was glad she couldn't see them, but he had better control over his voice.

"No, no, that's ok. It's interesting to hear," he said, "purely from a scientific perspective, you understand. What does he smell like?"

"Spicy," she said, "and smokey, like curry and cloves mixed with kindling. It reminds me of a wildfire beat back to embers; sparking, smoldering, and barely under control."

Her description of Raph's scent was an amazingly accurate rendering of his brother's personality and it made him wonder how it might describe the other things around her.

"What do I smell like?"

The question escaped before he could stop it. For some reason, this frank discussion had short-circuited his brain to mouth filter. He was about to apologize when she moved, grabbing his palm and placing it on her undamaged cheek. She inhaled deeply and thought a moment.

"Warm and refined, like oiled leather," she said at last. "Sweet and comfortable with unexpected, mechanical, metallic overtones. Like the inside of a luxury car."

He blinked, taking a moment to soak her description in.

"You also smell of copper and salt," she said, and her voice sharpened suspiciously. "That's blood. What happened?"

When he remained silent, she reached up a hand and trailed her fingers over his face until she found three parallel cuts running horizontally across his cheek. He caught her wrist and carefully moved her hand away, his skin tingling again where she touched.

"Donnie, you're hurt," she said, frowning in disapproval.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it," he deflected.

But she wouldn't be diverted. She leaned in, tilting her face up to his and inhaling. A moment later, her expression turned to one of shock and horror. She drew back, jumping to her feet and stumbling a bit before she caught her balance.

He tried to stabilize her, but she retreated even more. She couldn't go farther than the tether of the I.V. line, but she backed away from him covering her mouth with both hands; her eyes huge with fear.

"Morgan, what is it?" he whispered, trying to understand her sudden reaction.

"I did that," she said. "I hurt you."

"You weren't yourself. It's ok," he said to reassure her. "I'm alright."

Frantically, she shook her head.

"I'm sick. I thought it was Charlie who made me hurt everyone I care about," she moaned. "For years I tried to figure out what he was doing, tried to fight against it, but it's me. It must be me."

"Morgan, sweetie, what are you talking about?"

"Why did I do it, Donnie? Let Charlie get away with what he did to me? I'm sick, I must be to have stayed with a bastard like him. I can't trust myself. I'm only going to keep hurting people, the way I hurt you."

"You were a captive, it's not like you had much choice."

"I should have escaped before, tried harder to get away!" She protested. "Instead I began to follow orders- acceding to his horrendous demands. You know, twice I got hold of a knife? But I couldn't use it. Not on him or-" she broke off with a sob, "or myself."

His heart clenched painfully at the thought of a world without her.

"Hey!" he said, striding to her side. "Don't even think that. You were too strong to give in. You're free now and we'll make sure you stay that way."

He tilted her face up and stared into her eyes. The pain there was tremendous and the desire to kiss it away overwhelming. He closed his own eyes and sucked in a shaky breath to stop himself from taking that irreversible step.

"I should leave," she whispered. "I'm only going to hurt him."

His eyes snapped open.

"No!" his response was perhaps a little too vehement. He calmed his tone before continuing. "That would destroy him. He needs you."

 _I need you._

The thought whispered through his mind.

He firmly quashed it, locking it away. When had this happened? He hadn't been this attracted to her before. Protective of her yes, but not attracted. Now her pull was physical. Once again he forced himself to release her and step away.

"Donatello? Are you in?"

A familiar southern drawl called from the living area and jolted him out of the spell. Donnie's breath rushed out in relief. He'd forgotten he asked Leatherhead by today to meet Morgan and to run some further tests on her blood and Raphael's.

"Out in a sec!" he yelled through the door.

This was his chance to escape before anything untoward happened.

"I asked a friend by to help me with your treatment," he said to Morgan hastily. "Would you please come out and meet him?"

"Human?" she asked a little fearfully.

Donnie smiled.

"Actually, he's a very large crocodile."

She smiled and almost giggled through her tears.

"So there really are alligators in the sewers?"

"No, just the one crocodile, but believe me, one is plenty."

He unhooked her I.V. line and reached for the door, sliding it back and guiding her into the living room. Leatherhead was already making himself comfortable on the only piece of furniture in the room large enough to hold him, and even their long sofa groaned under his weight.

His back was to the pair, but the moment they rounded the end of the couch he surged to his feet. Donatello watched as his friend's eyes caressed Morgan from head to toe and he frowned as Leatherhead dropped to one knee in front of her.

"My lady," he said in his deep southern twang, "I apologize, for I have no gift. Donatello did not warn me you would be here." He shot the purple clad turtle an irritated glance. "But I am ever at your service."

"Of course I did, LH. This is Morgan, the girl you came to meet."

Donnie cleared his throat, especially uncomfortable with this strange display after his own odd feelings this morning. Doggedly, he continued with the introductions.

"Morgan, this is my friend and colleague, Leatherhead. He's about seven feet tall, when he's not kneeling," Don added sarcastically, "and around 375 lbs. He's scalier than us and has many, many teeth- but don't let that put you off. He's an amazing scientist. Leatherhead, this is the young lady whose blood we have been studying, Morgan Jennings."

"Surely you jest, my friend," Leatherhead said in surprise. "It cannot be hers."

Don furrowed his brow. "I assure you it is. I drew it myself."

"You didn't! Please say you didn't," Leatherhead gasped. He turned quickly in Morgan's direction. "I am sorry, my lady. Please excuse him, he did not intend any offense."

Morgan stood silent, totally confused by this conversation.

"Uh, LH, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?" Don asked. "We'll be right back, Morgan."

Donnie led the upset crocodile to the other room before confronting him.

"Ok, so what am I missing?" he asked.

Leatherhead blinked at him slowly. "You do not know? She is Feyian!"

The way he said it sounded like fae-yen.

"That didn't help," Don replied with a frown. "Enlighten me."

"The Feyian are an ancient and powerful people who live with, yet apart from the human population and have for thousands of years. They have an inbuilt ability to twist the fabric of dimensions and live mostly in their own little pockets of time. The old races of Earth had many stories about them and the consequences of crossing them, for they are fiercely protective of their own. It is best to always greet them with a gift and state your intentions clearly."

Donatello's eyes widened. "You're talking about the Faie? The faire folk? Elves? Those are just myths, legends."

"Than you have a legend standing in your living room, my friend."

"How do you know?"

"All the Feyian appear eerily similar in their natural form and I have met one other; many years ago," he replied. "She had the same tri-colored eyes, slightly pointed ears, petite stature, and pixie like expression. I tell you that woman is Feyian and crossing her is dangerous."

"Well, it would explain some of her talents, but LH if she is Fae, she doesn't know it. She was raised by humans, remember? I showed you her adoption papers, she was given up as a baby."

The crocodile blinked at him and frowned, thinking. "The Feyian do not give up their children; especially the females. They are rare -only one out of every seven births- and usually have huge families of brothers and uncles who protect them fiercely."

"Perhaps she is not totally Fae," Don suggested. "She could have one human parent. That would explain the DNA markers but might be why her body rejected pure human blood."

"It would also justify her adoption. The Feyian are purists. They would not accept a child of mixed blood into their ranks."

Donnie stared back into the living room at Morgan as she tried to make herself comfortable in one of the recliners, trying to picture her amongst a race of beings exactly like her. He couldn't do it. She was too unique, special. His eyes softened and, for a moment, he lost track of the conversation.

"Donatello!"

Leatherhead raised his voice and Don snapped back to the here and now, realizing it was the third time his friend had called his name.

"What is the matter with you? It is not like you to wander mentally when discussing an issue."

"I don't know, LH. Ever since we brought her back to the lair my thoughts have been scattered."

He met the crocodile's narrowed eyes and forced himself to admit the rest in a low tone. "I'm drawn to her. It's like magnetism and I'm trying to fight it. I can't bear to hurt Raphael, but I'm not sure I can resist her."

"Merde," Leatherhead cursed than a thoughtful look came into his eyes. "To save her, you gave her blood from each of you, yes?"

Donnie nodded. "Everyone except Raph. His blood is the one that does odd things when mixed with hers."

"And how are the others reacting to her?"

Don thought about their conversations last night. "Protective, but they aren't experiencing a physical pull. At least, not one they've admitted to."

The crocs eyes flashed golden for a brief moment before he pulled himself together. "She has had more of your blood, hasn't she?"

Don flushed. "Well, she had an emergency last night and needed more. Mine was readily available. It wasn't like I planned it."

"How old is she?" Leatherhead asked.

"Twenty-six, I think," Donnie said. "Why?"

Leatherhead sighed.

"I have made an extensive study of the Feyian. I find their race fascinating and my previous acquaintance provided me with much information to further my research though I have never had the chance to examine their blood before."

His eyes lit up and he seemed eager to rush back to his lab and continue, now he knew what she was. But he cleared his throat and went on under Don's intense gaze.

"Their lifespan is longer than the average humans and they come into puberty later. I believe Morgan is just completing that phase, coming into her sexual maturity. Combine her natural pheromones at this stage with her trauma and she is as you have dubbed her, magnetic- to any compatible being. And you, my friend, made yourself very compatible as your blood is running through her veins."

Donnie's eyes widened and a hopeful expression crossed his face. "You think once her body incorporates my blood this pull will fade?"

"Perhaps, my friend. Our tests were inconclusive on whether she would actually incorporate the transfusion or simply use it for subsistence until her body makes more of her own blood."

Donatello groaned. "I can't stand this much longer, LH."

"The key has to be in the blood. You claimed Raphael is a blood match, yes?"

"In a strange way. His forcibly mutated all foreign cells into hers, then transmuted themselves."

"Perhaps a transfusion of Raphael's blood is the answer. It would convert your cells, making you less compatible."

Don closed his eyes as a powerful wave of jealousy flowed through him at the thought, but forced himself to consider the possibility.

"It was fascinating to watch in the petri dish, but I'm not sure if we would get the same reaction in Morgan's body."

"Raphael is fixated on her already, so if his blood doesn't mutate, it won't change his feelings..." Leatherhead said.

"He's in love with her if that's what you mean, and his feelings are his own since she hasn't had any of his blood yet."

"Exactly, there would be no downside."

A deafening roar shook the room followed by a resounding crash.

"Hold that thought," Donnie said, and he wheeled around to run for the dojo door.

* * *

Julia stared at the computer in front of her, her eyes glazing over as the hours passed and she scrolled through yet another old treatise on the history of Japan looking for the mysterious Hamato clan.

Returning to her boss empty handed would be dangerous, not to mention stupid, and she was not about to ruin her standing by admitting failure now.

Since the regular channels held nothing of interest, Julia turned to her other talents. With a few keystrokes, she called up her connection to the Vallen mainframe and logged in. Once behind the firewall, her hands fairly flew across the keys; hacking into the systems which lay behind the commercial front the company presented to the world.

Of course it was dangerous to breach the security of their employer, but in this instance, Julia felt justified. If Saki knew anything about the Hamato clan, the information was probably stored within this data somewhere.

As the search algorithm ran, she snatched up a box of cold Chinese takeout and stuffed noodles rapidly in her mouth. She hadn't been back to the hotel for 36 hours and this had been lunch, dinner, and now breakfast.

She shifted away from her desk to the private bathroom to shower and change her clothes. It wouldn't be long before Mr. Hargrove was back in the office and she had to have an answer for him.

When she emerged, dressed in a freshly pressed, highly professional skirt suit, a strange young woman wearing black leather was lounging behind her desk. Trailing her eyes over the incoming data.

For a split second, she froze, then recalled herself and strode confidently into the room, narrowing her eyes at the intruder.

"May I help you? Miss..." Julia inquired, though her tone was far from friendly.

"Karai. And perhaps it is I who should be asking you," the girl replied, gesturing to the screen in front of her. "What do you hope to gain by sifting through the private affairs of the Foot Clan?"

The secretary examined the girl from head to toe. Karai was small and compact, but also lean and muscular. She had a serious air and the expression in her eyes was flat and deadly. As odd as she seemed, the girl must be some sort of enforcer for the Foot.

Julia decided to go with the truth.

"Actually, I'm seeking information about the Hamato clan. Mr. Hargrove believes it will help in the search for Saki's, ah Mr. Oroku's missing... prize."

The girl's eyes lit slightly at the name and an amused little smile danced across her lips. She reached down, and snapped off the power cable of Julia's laptop, closed the lid and plunged a dagger through the top. Electricity arched up the blade from the battery and the smell of ozone filled the air.

Julia flinched.

"If you wanted a history lesson, you should have just asked," Karai replied. "The Hamato and Oroku families were rivals—years ago in Japan, but none brought this competition life more than Saki and Yoshi. Both strove for Mastery of Ninjutsu and leadership of the Foot Clan, but only one rose to gain it. Yoshi was ultimately disgraced and exiled."

"So the Hamatos live here now? In the city?" Julia asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Karai said. "Most of the family was destroyed, but a single member still exists—Hamato Splinter. He has been waging a war of vengeance on Saki for years, blaming him for Yoshi's failures. He has four proteges, outcast brothers, who he adopted to carry on the Hamato name." She sighed. "While they fight with honor, they have been misled about their history. Splinter sets them against us, time and again and they attempt to thwart our plans at every opportunity."

Julia frowned. "So it's unlikely they will turn over the girl if they have her, or accept a bribe for her release," she said.

Karai laughed.

"God no," she said. "Leonardo would fall on his own sword before he took a bribe. Money is not important to them."

Julia's eyes narrowed. "You seem to have an awful lot of information about them."

The girl shrugged. "One of the first tenants of Ninjutsu is 'know thy enemy'. How else can one expect to defeat them?"

Julia smiled. "So, tell me more about this Leonardo."

* * *

Raphael stared at the closed folder in front of him as dread pooled in his stomach and forced its way up his throat, closing it so tight he could barely swallow.

 _Nothing in there will change the way I feel about her._

But would it? Could it? Don seemed pretty sure this was a bad idea. What if these words and pictures _did_ alter his thoughts? He would've let her down. Again.

 _What's the worst thing that could be in there?_

He pummeled his mind, trying to decide if anything in her past would make a difference to him.

 _What if she killed someone in her escape? Would it matter?_

No. He had killed before and he probably would again, if it was necessary.

 _What if she was addicted to something?_

Donnie would have found it by now, and besides, even if she was his genius brother would know how to fix it.

 _What if Charlie pimped her out to everyone?_

The thought hurt, but it wasn't like she'd been offered a choice. Or had she? Would it change how he felt if she had chosen to throw in her lot with this group of savage criminals? That might make a difference.

He shook his head. She told him she fell under the charismatic Charlie's spell in the beginning. Of course she would pay attention to the first man who looked her way with some sort of serious intent after years of neglect by the entire gender. It didn't mean she deserved condemnation.

With an angry growl, he flipped open the folder and read the first page. It was an FBI intake form. He skimmed it briefly, noting the suicide watch and their accounts of her escape and captivity. He winced as he read it, but the language was fairly high level and he was able to make it through the whole thing. Even wading through the pictures of her savage bruises and the x-rays showing her previously fractured bones didn't break him.

The next batch of photos was harder.

These were files taken from the bastard's private clinic. Don must have finally hacked his way into Hargrove's company to get a hold of them. They were sick. Raph's stomach heaved as he flipped through them. In many she looked worse than corpses he had stumbled across in the streets over the years.

A less gruesome one caught his eye and he stared at what looked like a nude photo of her covered from head to toe in black lace, though tears streamed down her face. On closer inspection, he realized the pattern had been sliced into her skin in meticulous detail and the black was her blood scabbing over the wounds. His stomach roiled and he clenched the photo tight in his fist, then tore it into tiny pieces as tears soaked his mask and ran down his face.

But it was only one of hundreds of horrible tortures Charlie had performed on her, his little puppet, whom he could heal at will and so begin all over again.

Raphael could no longer see the photographs, his eyes were so clouded with fury and tears. He wanted to destroy them. All of them. He didn't want anyone else to ever see his angel this way. But the worst was yet to come, for Charlie was a sexual sadist as well and, before long, his experiments passed the boundaries of simple physical violence into the realm of sexual torture. He had kept a log of each session, his feelings, her reactions, and the requirements of the client; Oroku Saki.

New fury rose in Raphael's chest, reigniting an old hatred. If it hadn't been for the Shredder, his angel would never have been selected for this experiment. Donatello was right. It hadn't been a good idea to explore what had been done to her. Leonardo was right. He didn't yet know how to handle this much anger- even after years of learning control.

But Morgan was wrong.

Nothing in there changed the way he felt about her. He still wanted her, needed her, adored her. And now he would avenge her. He had already planned to, but...

Now his vengeance would be unreal.

With a tremendous roar, he began to destroy everything around him, starting with that damn file.


	27. The Grey Between

The detonation behind her rang in her ears and reverberated through the air, vibrating its way into her soul. Raphael's voice embodied pure agony; colored by rage and despair. She instantly recognized the sound. She had made it herself on more than one occasion as Charlie scorched, cut, and tore her body and mind to shreds.

She didn't need sight to know she had destroyed him. Guilt hit her like a wrecking ball.

 _Oh my god, what have I done?_

She knew what came after such devastation; the blind need to strike back at anything within reach, and she was the closest thing to the dojo door...

Her heart started pounding. Raphael would never hurt her. She knew that now, bone deep. But, after all she had been through, fight or flight could not be suppressed. In one motion, Morgan leapt from the chair and dashed across the room; adrenaline lending her weakened legs the stability and strength they needed to flee. Unerringly, she reached overhead and yanked hard on a pipe. She rushed out the concealed door and into the sewer tunnels before anyone else even registered Raphael's rage.

 _What kind of monster have I become, to force such pain on another?_ This time, she couldn't blame Charlie. There was no one to accuse but herself. _I'm sick, twisted._

She wasn't paying attention to her footing, distracted by Raphael's agony. And since she didn't know the construction of these tunnels, she stumbled; stepping off the edge of the walkway and splashing down into freezing, ankle deep water.

She threw her hands out to stop a headlong fall, but though the impact wrenched her injured wrist and shoulder it didn't slow her momentum. She struck her head on the far shore and cried out; her voice echoing down the tunnel.

The icy cold burned her bare feet, but they quickly went numb as she scrambled her way up the other side of the steep embankment; her heart pounding in fear. Memories rose and she tried to fight them, but her head throbbed and confusion clouded her thoughts; dragging her back in time.

Morgan was running. Running for her life.

She'd managed to escape the main expanse of the manor, slipping through the wine cellar and into the service tunnels that allowed the repair men access to the power conduits and water systems of the house. She'd stumbled across the entrance less than a day ago and she had to use it now before she lost her nerve.

She knew Charlie would come for her. Her escape would hurt his ego and his business. For that insult, he would hunt her down. But she couldn't get away like this, scrambling about with no clear plan. She needed to think.

He could track her. He might know these tunnels; she did not.

She froze for a second, torn between returning to face her fate and running further away. Could she do it? Could she escape Charlie's long arm? If he caught her, he would hurt her worse than ever before.

 _Raphael, what should I do?_

Her mind whirled as, with that desperate mental shout, her past collided with the present. She couldn't figure out where she was or what she was doing. She only had one coherent thought:

 _I have to keep moving. Keep away from Charlie until Raphael or one of the others locates me._

They would come in time; Raphael promised. But for now she had to disappear. She concentrated, running her fingers over the bricks around her, learning the 'feel' of the tunnel. She'd only mastered this strange skill in the last few months, but it would come in handy now.

With a twist of thought, she layered the texture over her skin in the same manner in which she hid her injuries, only this time covering her whole body. Hopefully camouflaging herself from any cameras which might line the tunnel walls. Determinedly, she stepped down into the water, despite its freezing temperature. It would hide her physical trail, leaving Charlie, or rather Charlie's elite guards, nothing to follow.

She moved as quietly as she could, though her shivering caused more splashing than she would like, making random turns into new tunnels each time she sensed the air shift against her face. The access passage must connect with the sewer system. It was the only explanation she could find for all this water.

She could no longer feel her feet, but perhaps it was a blessing- for things best left unremarked upon lurked beneath the surface. At least Donnie had assured her there were no alligators for her to fear. Her thoughts reeled again.

 _What would he know about the sewers of L.A.? And why is it so cold? It never drops to this temperature in California. Something isn't right..._

The overwhelming scent distracted her and trying to hold her breath made her light-headed, but she had to keep going; had to escape and hope, somewhere out there, Raphael would find her again.

* * *

Donatello shot through the door of the dojo and he couldn't believe the destruction Raph had wrought in such a short space of time. Weapons lay scattered across the floor, their racks overturned; knives embedded to their hilts in the walls still vibrated; the practice dummies were torn to shreds, and there was nothing left of the file but bits of confetti.

For a moment, all was silent and Raphael was nowhere to be seen. A low growl gave Don enough warning to pull his bo before his brother attacked from behind the door. With a sharp twist, he deflected Raph's momentum and sent him rolling across the room.

Leonardo and Michelangelo charged in followed by Leatherhead. They flanked Donnie and faced down the raging form as he climbed back to his feet. The blank fury in his eyes frightened them and he didn't seem to hear Leo as the leader tried to talk him down. Instead he launched into another offensive. Forcing them back and breaking their protective stance as they stood guard over the door; trying to keep him contained.

On some level, he recognized them, even through his madness, for he didn't use lethal force. His sai remained sheathed and he fought with only his fists and feet. But his passion demanded an outlet and he could no more stop himself than he could fly.

His style changed. When Raph was absolutely furious he tended to forgo the studied patterns of Ninjutsu and fight dirty; his street moves coming to the fore. A surprise left hook caught Donatello on the chin and he went down, rolling away from the follow-up kick sent after him. Leo stepped up, blocking the hole and distracting Raphael from his target.

"Mikey!" Leonardo called, "Get Morgan to cover."

There was no telling where this violence would end. They may not be able to keep him confined to the dojo and no one wanted the object of his affection injured. The youngest turtle nodded and darted from the room.

At her name, Raphael paused and intelligence began to creep back into his gaze. Leo noticed.

"Raph, Morgan needs you to calm down," the leader called again.

Raph shuddered. He must be frightening her terribly. He closed himself off, shutting his eyes and holding himself still as all his muscles trembled; urging him to release his aggression and continue the fight.

"You can do it," Leo said, keeping his tone cool and supportive, "Morgan's waiting for you."

Exerting iron willpower he pictured her as he had first glimpsed her- healthy and whole, bundled against the snow on the rooftop of her work. He saw her glorious smile and whispered to himself, 'just breathe'.

For a moment, his fury abated and absolute calm consumed him. His nostrils flared as he took another deep breath and his eyes snapped open as he caught Morgan's scent nearby. But they narrowed to dangerous slits as he traced the smell back to Donatello. It wasn't simply on his brother's hands from treating her. No, Don was covered in it.

"Where is she?" he demanded of the genius through clenched teeth. "What did you do to her?"

Donnie blinked, startled. He much preferred talking to Raph than fighting him. Still, he was on the defensive and he snarled a bit as he climbed slowly back to his feet.

"What did I do? Don't take that tone with me, Raphael. I've been trying to fix your mistake like I always do! You're the one who injured her and made her feel lower than dirt. I simply consoled her."

"Consoled her?"

"Yes Raph, consoled her. Treated her with the tenderness and respect she deserves."

He should have stopped, but he was too angry himself now to care about how much his rant would reveal.

"She's an amazingly resilient creature, but she isn't unbreakable. You have no idea how close she is to completely falling apart. She needs love and caring consideration or she's never going to heal, and you're certainly not providing it. Somebody had to step in."

"Step in?" Raphael drew back, his face a mask of hurt surprise. He couldn't be more shocked if his brother dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. "Don? You made a move on her?"

"Of course not!" Donnie snapped, but guilt flashed for one brief second across his gaze. "I gave her a foot massage and a hug. Then I talked her out of running away from you."

"You didn't do a very good job."

They all turned at Mikey's quiet interruption. He stood in the doorway, a look of serious concern on his usually upbeat face.

"I've searched the entire lair. Morgan's gone."

* * *

Morgan stumbled for the hundredth time and paused, leaning her hand on the edge of the pipe she waded through. The water had risen to her knees and it moved faster now; she might be close to an exit, presumably some sort of spillway.

It might be safe to come out of the water, but it was difficult as her body from the thighs down was completely numb. Laboriously, she struggled to the side and dragged herself up to the walkway using only her hands and arms. Her wrist screamed and something popped in her shoulder. Horrendous pain tore through her and she almost fell back in the pipe, but she managed to cling to consciousness long enough to struggle out of danger.

She rested on her side on the dirty ground panting and wincing as hot blood soaked through the bandage on her shoulder. It was the only warm thing she could feel. The rest of her shivered as precious heat leached away through her wet clothes.

Her camouflage flickered and disappeared as pain became her point of focus, breaking her concentration. She moaned aloud, no longer remembering why she meant to keep quiet. Her teeth chattered so hard she thought they would break. They were so loud, she couldn't make out any other noise, so she was taken by surprise when a hand touched her on the shoulder and she yelped, trying to roll away.

"Stop!" A loud female voice commanded.

The sound of soft leather boots scrambling toward her made Morgan scoot faster, but a pair of strong, small, hands dug into her forearms and dragged her a few feet to the side. She shrieked in pain and fear.

"Shut up! I'm not going to hurt you! I'm trying to keep you from falling back in!"

Exhausted, Morgan stopped screaming. She'd lost the strength to fight, so she sagged against the curved wall where the girl laid her and reached for her aura instead. She didn't recognize it, but it was definitely female and strong willed. She tilted her face in the girl's direction.

"Who- who- are you?" Morgan said through her chattering teeth. "Wha- wha- what are you doing in the sewers?"

"I could ask you the same thing," the girl replied. She had a slightly clipped accent which Morgan couldn't place, but it was drowned out by the sound of her ripping open a foil packet. After a moment of loud crackling, an emergency blanket wrapped itself around her from shoulders to toes.

"You don't seem prepared to be here and it's much too cold to be in the water," the girl said, with a noise of disapproval. "And without any shoes either. What did you think you were doing?"

The form squatted in front of her, intently gazing at her face as Morgan tried to decide what, exactly, she could say. She couldn't tell this stranger what she was fleeing from. In fact, she wasn't sure why she was running any longer.

She racked her brain but, despite her eidetic memory, she couldn't recall how she got here. Her last clear thought? Raphael's devastating reaction in the lair. Still, the strange, sewer walking girl was waiting for an answer.

"Hi- hi- hiding," she finally got out.

"Hiding from who?" the girl asked.

"Eh-eh-everybody," Morgan said.

The girl sighed at her vague reply and a long pause ensued as she raked Morgan with an intense stare from head to toe. She shuddered at the glare. What had she done to antagonize this young woman?

Without warning, the girl's hand shot out and gripped Morgan's chin firmly, tilting it up at an angle and watching the light reflect off her eyes. She pulled back with a quiet gasp and a murmur of realization.

"You can't see..."

"S -s -so?" Morgan chattered as the girl stood.

"You're bleeding," she said at last, speaking more to herself than Morgan. "and if you don't get warm soon, hyperthermia will set in." She sighed. "They're probably already out looking for you, but maybe I should help things along..."

Morgan didn't answer. The blanket was holding in a tiny bit of warmth and her eyes drifted shut.

"Shit!" the girl said shaking her, "You need to stay awake..."

There wasn't much she could do. Consciousness slipped away and the last thing Morgan heard were the distinctive tones of a cell phone being dialed.

* * *

"What do you mean, Morgan's gone?" Donatello asked, horror twisting his expression.

"I mean she's gone! Vanished! Disappeared! Absent! No longer anywhere on the premises!" Michelangelo said waving his hands.

Leonardo cut him off with a gesture, taking control.

"Donnie, check the door sensors and cameras to see where and when she went out. Mikey, get the emergency kits and distribute them. She can't have gone far, but it doesn't hurt for us all to be prepared in case we need to split up."

They dashed from the room, Leatherhead followed and Leo turned on his remaining brother.

"Are you ok to go?" he asked.

"Try and stop me," Raph replied with a growl.

"Uh, guys?" Donatello called running in with his laptop, "We have a problem."

They all crowded around the screen as Don backed up the recording and pressed play. Morgan dashed into view from the front door, tripped into the canal and cried out as she landed on her already injured arms, cracking her head. Everybody flinched, but it turned into a collective gasp when, a moment later, she ran her fingers over the wall and simply disappeared.

"Did something happen to the camera?" Leo asked although the recording went on.

"No, it's perfectly fine," Donnie said.

"It is a favorite trick of the Feyian," Leatherhead spoke up. "A small dimensional twist which covers their body and renders them effectively invisible."

"So that's how she covered her injuries before, only she limited the effect to certain areas of her skin," Donatello said.

"Feyian?" Leo asked, "Who are they?"

"I'll explain later," Don said. "Right now we've got to locate Morgan. She's literally wandering blindly through the sewers. She's wet and it's freezing. If we don't find her in the next hour or so..."

He couldn't finish, couldn't believe they were so close to losing her again.

Raphael pushed past him, his face set as he opened the door and began to minutely examine her prints in the debris. He turned back a few moments later, his face paling to a sickly light green.

"This wasn't panic. She hid and stepped back in the water so she wouldn't leave any tracks. She's hurt and afraid, but she doesn't want to be found."

"Too bad!" Mikey snapped. " The water and the temperature will kill her and I'm not letting my lil' sister die cause we scared her into running. There has to be some other way to follow her."

"Don, is the tracking device in her neck still broadcasting?" Leo asked.

"I took it out last night while she was sedated," Donnie said with a grimace for the timing. "But there might be something else we can track. She may still have enough mutagen in her blood from the last transfusion for my sensors to pick up. That combined with her warmer body temp should give us something to go on."

He dashed to the lab, returning with a handheld device.

"On the off chance she climbed out somewhere close and left a physical trail, we should split up and search the side tunnels. Raph, you stay with Don and the tracker, it's the best possibility of finding her; everyone else spread out," Leo ordered.

In seconds, they had dispersed leaving Donnie and Raphael jogging along the bank; following an invisible trail. For a long time, they walked in silence. Raph's eyes combed the banks of the channel praying she climbed out before the cold water claimed her. Don's were glued to the device in his hand.

He kept having to recalibrate it as the levels of mutagen in their bodies were much higher, causing a false reading. It wasn't an accurate way of locating her, but it was the best idea he had.

"I want to apologize," Don said at last, breaking the silence and fiddling with the knobs of the tracker again so he wouldn't have to meet his brother's lost gaze. "I know you've been through hell trying to keep Morgan safe. My comments were unwarranted."

Raphael's eyes slid sideways to take the measure of his brainy brother and he grunted slightly.

"I expect that kinda shit from Leo, Donnie. Just never occurred to me that ya might join in. An' why do I always feel like I need a dictionary when ya admit yer wrong?"

Donatello grimaced, still not meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry for what I said," he stated more simply. "I was jealous."

Raph stopped in his tracks and this time his stare was piercing.

"What?"

"I was jealous. I still am. Morgan is... incredible," he said with a sigh, "and I can't help wishing, just a little, it wasn't you she was head over heels for."

Donatello finally raised his head and Raph stepped back. The deep longing staring out of those brown eyes was haunting. He should be angry, raging, at such a confession, but his brother was already suffering. Pain layered over the pining look before Don shuttered his gaze and dropped his eyes back to the tracker in his hand. Raphael frowned and laid a hand on his shoulder in sympathy, but he moved swiftly down the corridor.

"Don't worry," Donnie said shaking his head. "She's given her heart to you. She doesn't see me as anything other than a friend, though if we don't find her soon none of it will matter."

Raph growled and jogged to catch up.

How was he supposed to handle this? His angel was missing, probably suffering from exposure- again- and here was Donnie admitting he wanted her. He was torn between jealousy and duty. He didn't want his younger brother to be miserable, but this was Morgan they were talking about.

Raph cringed trying to sort out the mess he'd made in his own mind. He used to think there was nothing he wouldn't do for his family, but now... He couldn't give her up. Not even to spare his brother pain.

But Don was right. None of it mattered if they didn't find her soon. She'd be dead. His heart clenched horribly at the thought. What if she already was? What if the cold, numbing water had dragged her down and she drowned?

 _She can't be gone. I'd know. Somehow I'd know._

Abruptly his phone rang, startling him, and he nearly ripped it off his belt.

"Raph," he snapped putting it on speaker and praying one of the others had found her.

"It's April."

"April, this ain't a good ti-" he started.

"Shut up and listen to me," she said in a fierce tone. "I don't know what happened, but Morgan is lying unconscious in the sewer at the entrance to the 67th street spillway. Casey and I are on our way with blankets and hot liquids, but you need to get your shell over there NOW!"

His blood turned to ice in his veins. That was more than a mile from their location.

 _How did she get so far?_

He didn't even question how April learned of her situation, instead he snapped the phone shut and began to run, the emergency pack Michelangelo gave him bumping along on his shell. Donnie stood frozen for a split second then shot off after him, pulling out his own cell to contact the others.

The mile disappeared under Raph's fast gate and it was less than five minutes later when a flicker of light ahead of him caused him to surge forward even faster. A lantern flashed strobe-like in the darkness next to a tiny bundle slumped on the floor of the tunnel.

He threw out a foot, sliding to a stop like a baseball player, calling her name. His heart nearly stopped when she didn't respond. Hesitantly he knelt over her foil wrapped form and touched her face. She was ice cold, even to his cold-blooded hand, and her breath came so shallowly it took him several seconds to realize she still was breathing.

"No, no, no, no, NO!" his denials filled the tunnel as Don came to a stop next to him.

Donatello was tired, his muscles exhausted. The result of too many late nights, too much caffeine, and giving too much blood, but he had to act now if there was going to be any chance of saving her.

Raph started to pull back the foil blanket, but Don stopped him with a sharp no.

"That'll release what little heat she has. Get the towels and chemical hot packs from the emergency kit. We have to dry her off and warm her core."

With frantic hands, he fumbled the requested items out of his rucksack passing them over as the genius established a baseline on her condition. He stuck a hand under the foil encasement and felt her soaking pants then caught Raph's eye.

"We have to get her out of these wet clothes. You can do it, but it'll go faster with two and time is of the essence."

Raph blinked as he absorbed what his brother was saying. Don would turn his back and let him undress her alone if he wanted, but it might cost her time, and heat, she didn't have. He growled at the thought of Donnie seeing her unclothed after his confession, but this was an emergency and there was no time for privacy or jealousy. He nodded, and together they stripped her wet things away and wrapped her in the large towels.

Don broke the chemical heat packs to get them warming and covered them in light layers of gauze before pressing them to her torso and packing them around her head.

"Donnie, she's bleeding again," Raph said with sinking feeling of dread, staring at the red blossom still spreading from her shoulder into a sticky pool on the floor.

"Damn," Donatello cursed. "well warming her blood was the next step..."

His hand darted back into the bag and extracted a short hose, two needles, and a rubber strap. In a well-practiced move, he wrapped the band around his upper bicep and made a fist, sliding the first needle into his elbow. Red flowed to the clamp at the end and stopped. He couldn't even count anymore the number of times he'd done this to give a field transfusion to one of his brothers, but this was his first time on a human.

He reached for Morgan with a slightly shaking hand and once again caught Raphael's eyes. For a split second, his brother's face filled with angry denial, but it crumbled away as she began to shiver violently and he nodded once before handing her gently over. Don inserted the other needle into her elbow and released the clamp. The line wasn't long, and in the end, Donatello sat against the wall with her in his lap, keeping her elevated from the cold cement. He wrapped his arms around her tight and tried to give her as much of his body heat as he could, despite Raph's frequent glares.

"Why don't you check topside for April and Casey?" Don said, after one particularly intense stare. "She needs those blankets ASAP and if we can hot liquids into her, all the better."

Raph gave his brother a hard look, but jogged back half a block to the nearest manhole and climbed rapidly out of sight.

Donnie sat holding Morgan close to his plastron and stared at her slack face in the blinking light of the lamp. It looked wrong. She was far too pale, almost blue, and though she was shivering, her skin was still freezing cold.

He cursed himself for allowing her to run out of the lair; for letting his feelings interfere with his duty to watch over her. If he had been more vigilant and not left her alone near what he _knew_ was a potentially violent situation this would never have happened.

A few more minutes passed and he began to feel light headed. Donating blood for her a few days before had almost tapped him out and though his mutant body replaced cells faster than a human's, he hadn't yet recovered enough to be giving more. Still, he pushed it a little further, hoping his warm hemoglobin would keep her heart pumping.

She gasped, the first sound she'd made since they found her and began to breathe fast; too fast. Her body was going into shock as her extremities warmed.

"Raph-a-el?" she panted, through her frantic breathing. "I cnnn...wha..." Her voice was slurred.

"Morgan," Donnie called to her, desperation in his voice, "Morgan, sweetie, Don't try to talk. I need you to hold your breath. You're going to hyperventilate."

Her breathing sped again, reaching dangerous levels. If she passed out it would lead to complications he might not be able to reverse. But she was too out of it to follow his instructions and he dared not set her on the cement to free his hands. Besides, he was too dizzy to stand.

Suddenly, he found himself doing something he'd never done in his life. He prayed. To anyone or anything who might be listening.

 _Let this work... Let her be okay..._ he thought fervently.

 _Let Raph forgive me._

With that final plea, he closed his eyes, leaned his face close to hers and sealed her mouth with a kiss.

* * *

Morgan awoke to the sound of violent whispers.

"I don't care what he was thinking, I don't want him anywhere near her again!"

Raphael's rough voice was so filled with venom she was startled.

"That's not fair, Raph. Don's passed out in the lab because he gave everything he had, including his blood, to save her life," Leonardo said.

 _Wait, Donnie hurt himself to help me? What's going on?_

With a small groan, she opened her eyes and began to flex her fingers and toes. Everything burned, and a tingling like pins and needles raced over every inch of her skin. Her shoulder throbbed and her face stung. She had a new goose egg on her forehead and she winced as she explored the injury. She must look a terrible mess.

She sniffed experimentally and was overjoyed to identify the scent of incense. She was home, in her new room, tucked under the blankets of her own bed.

Outside her door, the whispering continued.

"He was kissing her, Leo! He told me he wanted her and the moment I turned my back he was kissing her."

"He was unconscious when we arrived. There could be another explanation for what we saw, Raph-"

"I don't care. He ain't coming near her again."

Morgan frowned. She was frightened and confused by the conversation and she desperately wanted it to stop.

"Raphael?" she called weakly.

The voices cut off abruptly, her screen slid aside, and his presence invaded the room. His aura was pointy and sharp, but the look he directed at her was anything but. His scent rushed in with him, overwhelming the lingering traces of incense and making her heart beat faster. If she could have moved, she would have thrown herself bodily at him.

But they had unresolved issues and she wasn't sure he wanted anything more to do with her; especially after her stunt with the file. His cry of agony still rang in her ears. She flushed and turned her face away from his burning gaze.

He stood in the doorway for a few seconds, doubt rolling off his form, but eventually he came all the way in and sat on the floor near her bedside. He lifted a hand and laid it softly on top of one of hers.

"Are ya ok?" he asked, then sighed. "That was a stupid question. Yer not ok. How are ya feeling, angel?

Tears welled up at his touch and his concern. Could he have forgiven her? She forced them back, clearing her throat several times. In a strange turnabout, his skin felt odd on hers and she blinked distracted.

"Still cold. Your hand is warm to me," she said with a frown. "It's not right."

He almost smiled at her plaintive tone. Out of everything that happened today, she chose his hand being warm as the one thing that wasn't 'right'. Her temperature was rising, but it still had a long way to go.

"Are ya stitches hurtin'? Or ya head? I don't know if ya remember, but ya hit it pretty hard," he said.

His voice was oddly diffident and her breath caught. Maybe he hadn't forgiven her after all. Maybe he was simply here to assess her.

"I'll live," she said, turning her face away again in despair.

Her injuries were nothing compared to the damage she had dealt to his emotions, his soul. That hurt her far worse than a physical wound.

He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face back towards him, raising his fingers to trail them over her uninjured cheek and brush back her hair. When he stroked her face, fire flashed through her veins. Again she had to stop herself from lunging at him.

"I thought I'd lost you..." he whispered, "again."

She freed her hand on the bed and he pulled his back, thinking she wished to draw away, but she merely raised it to lightly brush her fingers over his face; to read his expression as she answered.

"And would that be so bad?"

He growled deep and low, his brows drawing tight together under her hand.

"Yes," he said fiercely. "I will kill anyone who takes you from this Earth."

"Even if it were my choice?"

He stared at her helplessly.

"Please say you don't mean to hurt yourself," he whispered, his voice tight with fear.

She shook her head.

"I don't, but if I were to make a stupid mistake, like today, and it ended in my death, would it be so bad?"

He closed his eyes.

"You're killing me," he whispered. "I can't even bear to think about such a thing. Don't you see? I can't live without you, angel."

Her hand shook as she ran it back over his face.

"You mean you still want to be with me? Even after-"

"More than anything," he interrupted.

His expression said he was telling the truth and she shifted abruptly.

Soft lips met his.

His eyes flew open in surprise. The kiss was tentative, as if she expected him to reprimand her or draw away. He did neither. His hand swept her hair aside and cupped the back of her head behind her ear, pulling her closer.

Desire sprang to life within him and he deepened the kiss, holding her to him with a desperate need, amazed she was offering him a second chance. He inhaled her glorious scent and rose to his feet next to the bed, not breaking the kiss.

But something was different. Her scent changed. It became rich with need and what was normally intoxicating, now was overwhelming. He sat next to her on the bed and rolled her toward him as the deep thrumming began in his chest, revealing his desire. He finally broke the kiss with a gasp and stared into her beautiful face, his breathing sped and his heart pounded, but his lips, when they came down again on hers, were gentle.

He drew back, barely brushing her mouth with his and then leaned in to claim it with a little more dominance. He snaked his hand down the side of her soft cheek and buried his fingers in her hair, reveling in the silky feel.

After a moment, she broke away, a small blush coating her cheeks.

"It doesn't bother you?" she asked.

He wasn't sure what she was referring too, but he wasn't taking any chances with his response.

"Nothing about you bothers me, angel. You're perfect just as you are."

He took her hand and laid it over his heart where the thrum of the call he could not suppress vibrated powerfully.

"This," he said pressing her palm to his plastron, "says you're perfect. My match. The only one I want. The one I need to make me whole, to keep me sane, to give me something worth livin' and fightin' for."

She blushed and hid her head against his chest as he lay down beside her until he tilted her chin up and kissed her again.

"Now pay attention," he said, "this part is important."

She nodded and he brushed a gentle finger over her cheek, while staring into her eyes.

"Morgan Alexandra Jennings, I love you."


	28. Furious Love

Leonardo stood outside the door for a few seconds after Raphael disappeared inside and closed the screen behind him, breathing deeply to calm his irritation.

Yes, it had been shocking when Raph returned with them and Donatello lay slumped over on the floor with his lips inches from Morgan's, but Leo had been more concerned with the fact Donnie was unconscious with the emergency blood transfusion still flowing. There was no way to tell if he had given too much.

The moment he disconnected a confused and disoriented Morgan, Raph had bundled her in a blanket and set off at a dead run for the lair with Casey and April in tow. Leo spared them a fleeting glance but turned his attention back to the fallen brother at his feet.

Concern turned to fear when he was unable to rouse Donnie by any means, and Leonardo might have panicked if Leatherhead hadn't been there to perform a thorough examination.

"His vitals are still strong, my friends," the crocodile announced at last. "I believe we can safely take him home. But he must stay in bed for a few days and he cannot give any more blood to the Feyian. He is already in too deep."

Leo gave him a funny look. That was the second time the scientist had mentioned the Feyian. He wanted an explanation, but it would have to wait until Don was tucked up in bed...

Sighing, Leonardo turned from Morgan's door. He hoped she and his brother came to some sort of resolution. Raphael was dangerously close to an emotional collapse after her rejection and reading that file. If they didn't make up...

* * *

Heat rose rapidly from within as Raphael's kiss grew deeper and Morgan shuddered as fire raced through her veins; pushing out the last of the deadly cold. Writhing in his arms, she pressed herself closer to his chest; in thrall to the vibrations only she could trigger.

The spicy scent, uniquely his, thickened; overwhelming her. His lips devoured hers and each time they parted, panting for air, his heated gaze caressed her face.

 _Was she dreaming?_

It was as if she'd stumbled into Wonderland. It seemed impossibly surreal, insane even, that this amazing creature could love her so passionately. Yet he did. He had peered into the darkest parts of her life and hadn't flinched away. Somehow, he desired her still.

In his eyes she wasn't broken, corrupt, or in need of redemption. He believed her perfect as she was... She revelled in the feeling as his hands slid through her hair and down her back, skin grazing skin.

Her breath caught as she realized beneath the blanket separating them, she wore nothing and a dark chuckle met her immediate expression of consternation.

"You were soaking wet, love," he said, his deep, husky voice in her ear sending a tingle down her spine. "The clothes had to go so we could warm ya."

Morgan flushed as red as his mask.

"Oh," she said and her voice went as weak as her knees when he continued his caress; sliding a hand all the way down her back to rest in the deep curve above her hip. With a sharp little tug, he pulled her closer possessively and nestled his face into her hair.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "You were only bare for a moment or two."

Her bubble of rapture burst as her mind pushed past what he was doing and processed what he was saying. A look of mortification replaced the one of bliss suffusing her face and she drew back.

"So you saw them," she said in shame. "Wait, 'we'? The others saw too?"

Raph glowered as he remembered how circumstances required that 'we'. It had been necessary, but still, she would feel better if she knew.

"It was only Donnie in the tunnel," he said at last, "and I made sure he kept his eyes on his work. When we got home, April took over for the bathing part."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, ducking her head under his chin. "I was hoping you'd never have to see them. If you put the lights out it might not be so bad. At least you won't have to look at it."

"See what, angel?" He tilted her face up again, kissing her cheek, eyelids, and forehead between words; avoiding her bruises and bandages. "You don't have to hide anything from me."

"The nasty marks covering my torso and hips-" she began.

She cut off as the kisses stopped abruptly.

"What marks?"

"Don't play with me Raphael," she said, her tone sharp with pain. "Usually I cover them, but I was unconscious so if I'm nude, you saw them." She laughed in a self-mocking sort of way. "I wish my parents had the guts to tell me, but I guess they thought I'd never see them." She sighed. "It's ok. No one can stomach looking at me with the lights on."

He frowned at her hopeless tone.

"Angel, what are ya talking about? You're flawless..."

She shook her head. She felt vulnerable discussing this; exposed. But if he was going to be with her, they needed to be honest with each other.

"You're sweet, Raphael, but please don't lie to me. I know where they all are."

Her voice began to shake.

"Charlie burned paths around them repeatedly so I wouldn't forget. He laughed with my guards about how hideous and mottled I was and said if he didn't have to break me, he wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole."

A snarl melded with Raphael's thrumming purr, turning it into something menacing and dangerous to the rest of the world, but not for her. He was furious, yet even more determined to protect her and it was the most arousing thing she'd ever heard. Her heart pounded and her skin tingled as the exotic sound enveloped her. Muscles long unused clenched in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm gonna kill that bastard," Raph said, his rough voice low and deadly as he clutched her closer still. "But first I'm gonna teach him the true meaning of pain."

His gaze sharpened on her face. "Show me."

She flushed again and shook her head. "You really didn't see?"

"Show me," he ground out, releasing her and sitting up on the side of the mattress.

Hesitantly, she lifted the blankets, exposing her bare midsection but keeping the rest of her covered. Raphael leaned down and examined her stomach before he tugged the quilt further back, to see more skin and the rounded edge of her breast. His breathing hitched, then sped, and he was silent for a moment.

She bit her lip anxiously as she waited for his verdict.

He couldn't help himself. He reached out and traced a single finger across the smooth curve of her side, his eyes devouring the porcelain surface as his shell grew tight with need.

"Morgan, there's nothin' here but gorgeous skin," he said with a little shudder of desire.

"What?"

"He lied to ya, sweetheart. There's nothin' here."

Her large pixie eyes went huge in shock and her rosebud mouth dropped open.

"No?" she breathed, throwing back the covers and running her hands down her bare stomach and over her thighs. "Nothing?" she asked, tilting her face up to him in disbelief.

He choked, spinning about to turn his shell to her, though he wanted nothing more than to pounce on her and prove how freaking beautiful she was. The thrumming in his chest cranked to its max volume and he groaned.

"Morgan!" he grated in a strangled tone, marching across the room and putting some distance between them. "Unless ya want to be pinned against the nearest wall and ravished, ya gotta stop teasing me like this."

"Raphael?"

His name on her lips was a siren's song he could not refuse and he turned. His eyes widened for she had not replaced the covers and he couldn't stop himself from staring; his gaze scorching a path across her ample chest, toned stomach, and luscious hips. She lounged on her side, in an innocently provocative pose, and lowered her eyes shyly.

"Couldn't we stay in the bed?"

* * *

Donatello blinked blearily, trying to decide why he was looking at the ceiling of his lab. Had he stayed up working too late and just collapsed in the cot? If so, Leo was going to tell him off. Again.

He sighed and tried to sit up, but found he couldn't. Confused, he raised his head and stared down at the rest of him. He was swaddled from neck to toes in layer upon layer of blankets. He struggled briefly to free himself, but his muscles were so weak he gave up on the whole affair.

 _What happened?_

With a jolt, his brain kicked into gear. His thoughts were slow, like molasses, but he remembered.

Fragile as spun glass, Morgan shivered weakly in his arms and her rapid breathing was the final sign shock was taking over. His heart began to pound as panic set in and adrenaline flooded his veins. Her condition demanded a quick response, or she would soon be in cardiac arrest.

He took a huge chance on kissing her. Not because of Raphael, though he was sure he would hear about it later, but because there were two possible outcomes. Either she would accept his advance and the resulting automatic holding of breath would prevent her from passing out due to hyperventilation, which was the desired result, or...

Or his actions would trigger her conditioning and she would fight, endangering both of their lives.

Despite his own desire, he tried to keep the kiss platonic as he leaned in, but her lips were so sweet and he swore, for just a second, they quivered in response to his... But he didn't have long to worry about it. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and before he drew back to stop the flow of blood, his vision went dark.

He fought again with the covers on his cot.

Had it been enough? Had his actions saved her? Or were they all gathered somewhere now, mourning the loss of the most precious thing to ever enter their lives? With a choked cry he called out her name. He couldn't move and now he couldn't see, as tears built up behind his lids and blinded him. Had she struggled against him? Fought to take her last breath in his arms while he lay there blithely unconscious?

Across the room, he heard the door open and seconds later a cool, damp cloth brushed over his brow. A comforting hand gripped his shoulder and a calm voice, the voice of reason, cut through his panic.

"Morgan is fine."

Those were magic words, uttered with the conviction of absolute truth, and Donnie's body released all its tension in one final shudder. Consciousness fled once again, holding tight to the reassurance of his older brother with a vice like grip.

Leonardo watched as his words had the desired effect. The twisted pain of Donatello's countenance faded and he relaxed, his breathing evened out as he slipped into unconscious slumber.

Leo had come directly from a family meeting where Leatherhead explained the Feyian, and their theory of Morgan's parentage. He also divulged the effect of the multiple blood transfusions, so the leader knew exactly what was going on when he entered the lab and saw his panicking brother.

With a sigh for his pain, Leonardo removed Donnie's violet mask, darker now from the tears. He rinsed the cloth in a bowl of water set nearby and wiped the cool material over his brother's eyes; washing away the salt with gentle strokes. It had been a long time since Donatello was the one in the patient's chair.

 _He's always the one tending to us._

Time after time, year after year- he'd treated them with tender care. Now it was time to repay the favor.

 _I won't let Raph lay into him. These feelings aren't his fault and he practically killed himself to save her life. Again._

With a determined frown, Leonardo moved about the lab gathering up supplies before he settled into a chair next to his brother to watch over him and tend him while he slept.

* * *

Smooth green scales met soft, deliciously warm skin and slid across each other in an entrancing, hypnotic way.

Corded muscles and tight tendons flexed across Raphael's upper body as he leaned over Morgan on hands and knees. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she stroked the back of his head and explored the hardness of his carapace; tracing the unique grooves comprising the scuts.

Raphael shuddered under her dancing fingers and lowered himself to her side. Ever mindful of her injuries, he arranged their position so she could embrace him without straining. To her newly heated skin, his touch was cool once more and she shivered lightly as he stroked the length of her with feather light touches. Her breathing sped as first his warm breath, then his teeth, grazed her collarbone and she groaned aloud as he nibbled at her flesh.

Morgan had been tense at first, worried about her body's responses, but his actions triggered none of her conditioning. As a willing participant, she became supple under his caress and melted against the harder plates of his plastron, conforming to his contours as if she were made for him alone.

She stifled her moans in the hollow of his throat as her musky scent increased, driving Raphael wild with desire. Still, he held onto his control with an iron will. He was much too strong, and she far too fragile, for him to abandon himself to the passion he felt.

Instead, he worshiped her gently.

Blazing a trail of kisses down her neck, his lips slowed between her breasts, then captured one; his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip and eliciting a soft gasp as his hands explored lower. Calloused palms cradled her hips, pausing ever so slightly over her brand, before gliding down her silken thighs to draw one leg up over his side.

Her calf fit perfectly into the natural separation of his shell and she caressed the sensitive area of his side as he slipped a thigh between her legs. A deep moan of appreciation escaped his throat and the vibrations in his chest increased tremendously when she arched her lower body against his rock hard muscle.

The wet heat of her core pressed against him, searing his flesh, and he longed to take her immediately, but she had been ravished enough. The flicker of fear in her eyes as she invited him to bed, made him determined to chase away the evil memories. With every tiny lick, kiss, and caress, he cleansed her soul; replacing a thousand foul, unwanted touches with ones she demanded from him with a growing fervor.

Following his instincts, and his nose, he dragged himself lower. Her scent deepened as his other knee joined the first between her legs; drawing him like a bee to honey. A gentle nudge invited her to open for him and, with a small shiver, she parted her knees allowing him access.

Strong arms threaded under her knees and cool palms reached up to linger on her forearms before gliding down to encompass her tiny hands. Their fingers intertwined and she rested her heels over his shoulders against his smooth shell.

Tenderly, he stroked her inner thighs with his cheeks. Marking this most intimate area thoroughly with his own scent and scattering gentle kisses, soft as butterfly wings, along their lengths. He didn't move on until her trembling and sighs became desperate with need.

Then his mouth crept lower still. His own slow pace driving him mad with desire. He had grown so hard his shell almost couldn't contain him any longer. Her every movement inspired him. Each heavy breath, sweet gasp, and passionate moan encouraging him to explore further.

Grazing his lips along her incredibly soft skin toward the warmth at her core made her clutch at his fingers tightly until, at last, he was nuzzling his face against the auburn curls sheltering the source of her unbelievable fragrance.

For a minute he simply breathed her in, but hunger overpowered him. He closed his eyes, leaned in with a muted, desperate cry and tasted her.

Now he was truly lost...

Her scent alone was intoxicating, but her flavor drove him out of his mind. In that instant, he surrendered; handing her complete and utter control. Placing his life, his heart, and his soul into her delicate hands. He would do anything, be anything, for the sake of this goddess quivering underneath him.

He would fight for her. Kill for her. Die for her.

With a single word she could raise him up or tear him down, yet he accepted that risk. She could do with him as she willed; as long as she did not send him away.

* * *

This time when Donatello woke, his brother sat at his bedside. Leonardo was reading by the glow of a candle, the shadows painting his serene face with hollows of darkness and light. But he put his finger in the worn paperback and smiled when he noticed Donnie awake at last.

The blankets were looser now, and Don shot straight up in the cot as the next thought hit his mind. Where was Morgan? She was injured, hyperthermic, and in danger. Why wasn't she in here where he could treat her? His eyes scanned the entire room, but he and Leo were alone.

"Morgan?"

He couldn't stifle his urgent question, though he feared what his brother might deduce from it.

"She is well. Leatherhead oversaw her treatment, April bathed her, and Raph is... keeping her company," Leonardo finished delicately. "How are you feeling?"

It was obvious Leo intended to divert him from that last statement, and though it was one Don himself typically asked when a patient awoke, hearing the query from the other side was a bit disorienting. It took a few moments for his brain to get over the strangeness so he could offer his answer.

"Better," he said as he took stock of his body.

It should have taken him a lot longer to recover from the severe draining of blood, days really. Unless he'd already been out for days...

"Uh, how long have I slept?" he asked.

"It's been a few hours," Leo said, keeping his tone casual. "You haven't missed much."

Don blinked in confusion. He shouldn't be doing this well, not that he was complaining but... Another thought burned a path through his brain, distracting him and causing him to flush. Leo raised a brow.

"How did you- We were- What did-" Donnie made an uncomfortable noise and cleared his throat, putting one hand over his eyes. "Was it bad?" he mumbled. "When you found us, I mean. Was Raph... upset?"

Silence fell and he peeked between his fingers to check his brother's reaction to the question. Leonardo's face was closed, his expression a smooth mask that gave nothing away, but his eyes glimmered the tiniest bit and Don could tell he was angry.

He cringed and with horrible certainty understood Leatherhead must have spilled the beans. Leonardo knew about Don's forbidden feelings. He dropped his face back into his palms, mortified.

Suddenly Leo was kneeling next to the bed. One finger raised his brother's face up again and steely, blue-grey eyes wrapped in blue met ashamed chocolate brown ones, bared to the world.

"You let me deal with Raphael," Leonardo said simply. He held Donatello's gaze for a few moments longer than stood, changing the subject. "You hungry?"

"I could eat," Donnie replied in confusion.

Leo nodded and headed for the door. That's when Don saw the cotton ball taped to the leader's inner elbow. His eyes swept the lab and landed on the more practical transfusion device he had perfected many years ago. It stood freshly cleaned on a nearby table, gleaming in the light. Next to it lay his own notebook with detailed instructions on how to treat a patient for extreme blood loss.

Now he understood why he was recovering so quickly. Leonardo's blood had always run strong. Tears for his brother's care and concern gathered in the corner of his eyes and he brushed them away with a fist.

"Leo."

His brother stopped at the door and turned, a guarded look on his face.

"Thank you."

* * *

Raphael stared at the face of an angel. Completely transfixed, he could not tear his gaze from the sated and relaxed girl in his arms. Her expression was so incredibly beautiful it should only exist in the imagination of artists; creative minds known throughout history for their genius. Instead it was gifted to him, the lowest of the low. A being who was not even human.

It was unreal, yet if he was dreaming he never wished to wake.

She smiled drowsily up at him and, even though her eyes were closed, it was as if the sun had risen at midnight; blinding, but a wonder to behold. He could not suppress the tender answering grin which tugged at his lips when she traced a finger unsteady with exhaustion over his face to read his expression.

She giggled at his slightly off center smirk, cupping her hand over his cheek. He covered it with his own, turning his head to press a deep kiss to the middle of her palm before nuzzling against it.

"Stay with me?" she mumbled, mostly asleep.

"Always," he answered, lowering her hand reverently to her side.

Eventually, her gentle, even breathing told him she had passed into deeper sleep and he stroked her cheek soothingly with his fingers, content to sit by her side and stare at the face of perfection.


	29. Revelations

**Revelations**

Two days of bliss, wonder, and adoration.

Morgan never felt so pampered in her life. The brothers waited on her hand and foot and Raphael did not stray from her side. His constant presence slowly brought her back to a more stable mental state after the trauma and pain of the previous few days. She'd slept through the night, two nights running - not a single nightmare disturbing her rest, simply because she was cradled in his strong arms.

Of course, it also helped that he wore her out with his absolute dedication to her body and its needs. She smiled to herself at the thought, a sinful little grin which sparked a low hum from the turtle on her right. Raphael's hot gaze caressed her face, lingering on her lips and Michelangelo laughed.

"That smile is sexy as hell, sis," Mikey said with a smirk of his own, reaching across to grab the dice of the board game from in front of her. "You should wear it more often."

She blushed as Raph kicked his little brother under the kitchen table and Leo sent a glare his way.

"Hey, I'd have to be dead not to notice something so gorgeous," Mikey protested with a wink in her direction. "Besides a little flattery might get me Connecticut Ave., right? How about a trade?"

They were playing Monopoly and it was getting rather cut throat. Leonardo owned the most expensive side of the square and his hotels were beginning to eat away at the other's profits. If any of them had a prayer of winning, they were going to have to gang up on the strategist. Morgan smirked and passed Mikey the property card, before sipping the piping hot tea Master Splinter had given her.

As much fun as she was having, something was missing. Or rather, someone. She hadn't heard so much as a peep out of Donatello since they found her in the tunnel. Raphael was treating her like a princess and caring for all her wounds, but she missed Donnie. She understood he had a lot of projects going on, but it seemed odd he hadn't come to see her at least once. After all, they were friends.

 _Unless I've somehow offended him? Surely the others would have told me._

She focused on the group in front of her. The whole family was competitive and the game absorbed most of their attention. Perhaps she could take a moment to check on her friend. She turned toward Raphael and he instantly leaned down to her.

"I'm gonna take a short break," she said. "Play for me when my turn comes around?"

Slipping from her chair, she headed for the restroom in the opposite direction of her intended goal. She didn't know why, but she felt the need to conceal she was checking on Donatello. Nothing she could specifically point to was wrong, but in such a close knit family the genius was conspicuous by his absence and she wanted a moment alone with him to ask if everything was ok.

Raphael's worried eyes followed her to the bathroom door before he politely turned away and she sighed, wishing there was some way to reassure him her most recent attack had been a fluke. Usually, they paralyzed her with fear instead of sending her running, but she guessed only time would ease his anxiety.

The moment she felt his gaze disappear, she pulled her instinctive camouflage around her and stealthily moved to the other end of the lair, unobserved by the rest of the family.

As she approached the lab, she began to wonder.

 _Is this a good idea? What if Donnie is avoiding me on purpose?_

Well, she would go in and if everything seemed normal, she would slip out again without anyone being the wiser.

The room was long and perhaps even more cluttered than she remembered. She wove her way through stacks of unrecognizable items and furniture until she sensed Donatello's aura toward the back. She frowned. It was dimmer than usual and he wasn't moving around much.

A large table stood before her, with several flasks bubbling away, but under their slight noise she detected a soft sniff. Circling the obstacle warily, she stopped to analyze what was in front of her.

Which was... nothing, until she focused on the ground.

Donnie sat on the floor, leaning against the wall behind the table. As a bark of laughter echoed in from the kitchen, he sank even lower with a small moan. Worried, she cast about for something to help make sense of his behavior. Was he sick? Had one of his experiments injured him somehow?

She crept closer and inhaled deeply.

When the resonance came back to her, she was even more confused. He felt... odd. His only physical injuries were the minor scratches she had given him on that out of control night several days ago, but internally his rhythms were totally off. And he smelled wrong. His gentle scent of leather and oil was mixed with another. In fact, the aroma was distinctly metallic, like... Leonardo.

Concerned, she decided it was worth revealing herself, but she put the table between them before discarding her camouflage so it would appear she had only recently come in.

"Donnie?" she called.

* * *

Donatello stiffened as the sound of her voice sent a shiver he couldn't suppress down his spine and climbed quickly to his feet. He knew Raphael wasn't about to let Morgan anywhere near him by herself and he didn't want anyone to see how despondent he was over the situation.

Despite Leo running interference, the hot-head made it clear Don wasn't to come within ten feet of her without at least one other brother present. That was all the compromise he was going to get for saving her life. Raph really didn't want him to even set eyes on the girl.

Ashamed, he had shut himself in the lab, but listening to the others engage with her when he could not was almost too much for him to take. He was considering leaving, perhaps spending some time with Leatherhead to regain his composure, when her soft call startled him.

"Morgan?" he said, leaning over the table and checking the room for her chaperone. "Is everything ok?"

He quirked an eye ridge in surprise. She was alone.

 _Now how had she managed that?_

Since they returned from the tunnel Raphael had practically glued himself to her side. He frowned. By now, his brother had probably turned her formerly fond thoughts of him sour with tales of his unwanted desire. Perhaps she had come to confront him. He examined her expression anxiously to determine what she was thinking, but he saw nothing negative in her face.

 _Did they not tell her she was supposed to stay away?_

She tilted her head like a small songbird, curious and inquiring, as he scanned her from head to toe. At least Raphael seemed to be following his instructions about treatment though his fingers itched to peel back her bandages and examine the wounds for himself.

"Why are you holed up in here all by yourself?" she asked in a gentle tone, startling him out of his thoughts. "Whatever you're working on can spare you for a little while. Spend some time with us."

 _They hadn't told her._

He couldn't quite believe it. Surely Raphael wanted to, but Leo probably talked him out of it. His conscience pricked him at the thought.

 _Why blame Raph? The truth is YOU are afraid to be around her alone._

Every time she drew near his body shocked him with its response. His heart rate elevated, his shell grew tight, and his thoughts became tangled. He needed to get her out of here.

"I'd like to, but my, uh, experiment is at a delicate stage. I can't leave it unattended."

He hoped she'd take his excuse at face value and let it drop. Spending the evening under Raphael's hateful glare would not be a fun experience and it would make everyone else uncomfortable.

"Oh. I can keep you company in here for a bit if you like," she offered.

"N-No, you shouldn't. You're still healing. You should be out there relaxing and enjoying the pampering."

"But I miss you," she objected.

Her eyes grew luminous and her face held a forlorn expression that struck him to the core.

"What?"

He was so disturbed he couldn't form a proper sentence and he glanced around the room, slightly panicked. If Raphael found her alone in here with him, there was going to be trouble, but what kind of friend would he be if he turned her away when she wanted to talk?

He didn't like his options.

Hurt the precious woman in front of him by rejecting her? Or injure his brother by letting her stay and risking his own inappropriate response? His analytical mind spun, searching for an alternate solution. If only he could trust himself around her...

"I miss you," she repeated a little sadly.

It was too much. She deserved to know. He opened his mouth to explain, but no sound came out. He had nothing, not a single word in his vast vocabulary would resolve the situation without upsetting her. And he couldn't bring himself to lie, not to her.

"Donnie? Did I do something?" she pressed. "Offend you somehow?"

"No! Of course not," he said, surprised at the direction of her thoughts. She could never do wrong in his eyes.

Uncertainly, she reached across the table for his face, trying to ascertain his expression, but he flinched away. If she touched him it would be all over. He would give her anything she wanted. He stepped back out of reach.

"Morgan, come back to the game."

Leonardo's unexpected voice, right behind her, made her jump. Her hip crashed into the table and she yelped. Don reached out to steady her, almost involuntarily, but Leonardo beat him to it, wrapping his hands around her waist and supporting her carefully until she balanced.

"Thanks," she breathed before turning her face back to him and reaching out again, "Please Donnie, tell me what's wrong?"

Her pleading and sorrowful expression were breaking his heart. He almost gave in, but Leo intervened once more, taking her hand.

"Morgan," Leonardo said, trying to guide her toward the door. "Raph is frantic, please come back in."

Don winced thinking it was a bad move, but the leader had spent the least amount of time with her so perhaps he didn't realize how little escaped her notice. After her tragic experiences, she was an expert at spotting manipulation.

She planted her feet and narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"What's going on?" she demanded. "What's wrong with Donnie? Why does he smell like you? And why don't either of you want me in here?"

Donatello stared at her, amazed himself by how much she perceived.

She can _detect Leo's blood in my veins?_

Leonardo traded a glance with the genius, but for once Don was too discombobulated to determine what the leader wanted from him, so he shrugged.

"We were hoping to let you get a few more days rest before addressing it," Leo said at last.

She shook her head violently.

"If something is wrong with Donnie tell me now."

Donatello's dark mood lifted slightly at her response. She still cared about him and he knew she was good, through and through. Perhaps she could forgive him.

"Let's sit down," Leonardo said, with another slight tug on her hand, "and we can talk about it." as Morgan's face hardened in defiance, Leo nodded to Don adding, "All of us."

* * *

Stubbornly, Morgan refused to move until Donatello's aura came around the table and began to walk before them, but even then she couldn't relax. Something was definitely up with her friend and she was annoyed nobody wanted to tell her.

As they exited the lab, Raphael shot out of the hallway he was searching. His eyes locked on Morgan and he crossed the room at top speed, vaulting the couch. He pulled her tight against him the moment he reached her.

"Angel!" He nuzzled her face before pushing back to examine her all over. "You ok? You didn't come back!"

"We thought you'd gone out again," Leo added. "I was getting Don to check the security system."

Guilt hit her hard. She'd been bemoaning Raphael's loss of trust but hadn't even considered her little stealth mission would look like another deadly disappearance to them. She stretched up on her toes, lifted her face, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him to calm his panic.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you," she said. "I'm fine. Really. I went to check on Donnie."

Raphael stiffened and raised his head to glare at his brothers over her shoulder. "I thought we agreed-" he began, but Leonardo cut him off.

"I let it go before, but Morgan needs to hear. In fact, she's insisting on it."

She cupped Raph's cheek in her palm and turned him back to her.

"You've gone out of your way to make me happy these past few days, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. But you can't shelter me from everything. If something is wrong and it involves me we should face it together, ok?"

She felt his intense gaze as he examined her face, searching for something deep in her eyes. Whatever he saw must have convinced him because he finally sighed and led the way back to the couch. As they sat, Michelangelo bounded in, enveloping her in a hug over the back of the sofa.

"SIS! You freaked us out, babe! You can't just disappear like that. Don, can we get her a bell or something?" He smiled. "It worked when I had a cat."

"Mikey," Donnie said with a growl for his brother's disrespect, "Morgan is not a pet and she can go wherever she pleases." Irritated, he took the seat furthest away from the rest of them.

"Of course she can," Leo said, taking her hand and giving it a light, reassuring squeeze as he passed to the other chair. He seated himself and gave everyone a serious look before he continued, "We're simply concerned because of what happened the other day."

Morgan flushed. "I'm sorry guys. I really am."

She knew that flashback had been one of her most disastrous yet and if it hadn't been for the strange girl, she would have been gone by the time Raphael arrived. So it wasn't fair to complain about their watchfulness.

"It wasn't your fault," Donatello said, in her defense. "The attack was triggered by Raphael's temper. Again."

"But something else happened, didn't it?" she asked before they could get into an argument. "Something no one wants to tell me."

"Can't slip anything past you, can we?" Mikey said, his chipper tone fading to one of unhappiness.

She waited in silence, but nobody spoke up or looked in her direction. Even Raphael had turned away. Obviously this was an uncomfortable topic.

"Ok-ay," she said. "Let's start with something easier. What was up with the crocodile?"

"Leatherhead?" Donnie said, "Well..."

"You ever wonder why you can do all that really awesome stuff? Like how you can read auras and make yourself disappear?" Mikey interrupted. "Oh! And like, smell people's wounds?"

She blinked at him in confusion trying to figure out what her abilities had to do with the large mutant who knelt to her in the middle of the lair several days ago.

"Uh, well I guess. Most of the time I try to fit in and act normal so I don't think about them too much. Why?"

"LH knows other people who can do those things!"

Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

 _There are others who can do what I do?_

She never considered the possibility.

"I always thought I was a one-off, a freak," she blurted, stunned.

"What Mikey means," Donnie said, frown apparent even in his voice, "is Leatherhead recognized your species. He didn't realize you were adopted, so he was treating you as he would your parents."

"My species? You mean humanity?"

She raised an eyebrow at the genius. She knew he liked to be precise with his language but 'species' seemed a little overboard, even for him.

"Technically, we believe you're only half human," he said and rushed on as her eyes widened in fear. "Which is why your body was having such trouble with the transfusions at the hospital."

"Half-human?" she repeated. Her voice trembled and Raphael took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

"Like us!" Mikey said, trying to keep a positive spin on things. "That's why our blood helped you get better!"

"What's the other half?" she asked.

Donatello's eyes snapped to her face and he stared hard. She fidgeted under his gaze, fearing the worst.

"What is it, Donnie?" she whispered, tightening her grip on Raphael's hand. "Something bad?"

"No!" Don and Raph rushed to reassure her at the same moment.

"I'm sorry, I didn't intend to frighten you," Donatello said, a tinge of awe coloring his voice. "It's just... you're taking this so well. I mean, I think most people would freak out about being compared to mutants and... "

"Yeah, well get it together Fanboy," Raphael snapped. "She's still waitin' for an explanation. Or do ya want one of us to finish?"

Morgan frowned and rested her injured hand on top of their clasped palms in a soothing gesture. Ever since they got back from the tunnel, Raphael had been... irritated around Don and she wondered about the change.

"No, I got this," Donatello said. "Morgan, have you ever heard any myths or legends regarding the Fae?"

"As in fairies?"

"More like powerful elves, the Sidhe, or the Seelie Court. Although the fairy mythos does eventually equate back to the Fae as well-"

Donatello cut off what was clearly about to become a lengthy commentary and cleared his throat.

"Yes, so, most of those stories were created to explain sightings of another race of beings who share the planet with homo sapiens. The Feyian. They exhibit unique, inborn talents which humans have yet to evolve, but you display a number of them."

"So you think I am half Fae-yen?" She asked, trying out the word.

Her thoughts exploded with questions and she couldn't hold them back. They spilled out chaotically as they occurred to her.

"Have you ever met any? Would they teach me to do more with my gifts? Are they all blind?" She gasped. "Do you think my Feyian parent might be searching for me?"

"We haven't," Leonardo said. "Leatherhead has seen one other and says she resembled your physical characteristics. He would be the person to ask the majority of your questions."

"But sweetie, I wouldn't get your hopes up about meeting them," Donatello said. "They appear to be ruled by a rather archaic form of matriarchy and tend to dismiss those they don't consider pure blooded."

Her face fell.

"Right," she said. "I get it. Half human, half Feyian. Nobody want's a half anything."

She dropped her head as Raphael growled next to her, plainly angry at his brother. Donnie didn't mean to hurt her, she was sure, but he had a tendency to offer more information than she needed. A strong arm wrapped itself securely around her as Raphael drew her close.

" _I_ want you," he whispered in her ear. She could virtually hear his smirk as his husky tone caused her to shiver under his hands.

"Do not be troubled, my child."

Master Splinter's voice was warm as he approached the group and Morgan blinked as he dropped whatever mysterious shielding he employed so she could 'see' his aura. Leonardo leapt to his feet, drawing up another chair for his father.

"It does not matter what particles your DNA consists of," the kindly rat continued. "Here, you will always be welcome. Here, you are family."

Morgan smiled at him, touched he would take the time to reassure her.

"Thank you, Master Splinter," she said. "I would not be here if it weren't for the bravery and kindness of your sons. I owe them a huge debt."

Everybody spoke at once.

"Nonsense."

"It was nothin', dudette."

"It was our honor."

Raphael simply growled, not wanting to contemplate the 'not'.

"Did you thank the girl for me?" Morgan asked. "The one who gave me the blanket..."

She trailed off as everyone tensed around her.

"Girl?" Leonardo asked.

"You were alone when we found you," Donatello said.

"April called with your location," Mikey added. "The foil thingy came from our emergency kit. We have those, right Donnie?"

"We have them," Don said. "But she was wrapped in one when we arrived. And she had a flashing lantern so we wouldn't miss her."

Morgan frowned. "But I heard the girl call."

"Let me get this straight," Leo said. "A stranger found you in the sewers, someone who knows enough about us to call April to report you and nobody thought to share this information?"

Morgan flinched at his tone. She hadn't heard the leader lose his cool so thoroughly before.

"We have been a _little_ busy, bro," Mikey said to diffuse the situation.

"So you don't know her?" She asked timidly.

"We don't know too many human girls," Michelangelo said. "Maybe it was a mutant?"

"Can you describe her?" Leo asked.

"Taller than me, but with small hands. Strong, she was able to drag me several feet with no problem," she paused, thinking hard. "Leather boots and, from what I felt of her clothing, some sort of wool body suit."

"Did she do anything?" Donnie asked. "Besides give you the blanket."

"She scolded me for being in the sewers unprepared."

"Anything else?" Mikey said.

"She asked a lot of questions, but I didn't recognize her and I didn't want to give you guys away so I just said I was hiding."

Leonardo nodded his approval.

"I got the feeling she knew who I was and she didn't seem too happy to see me. Her stare was distinctly unfriendly, though when she realized I couldn't see she seemed more inclined to assist."

"Why did ya think she might know us?" Raphael asked.

"Something she said."

Morgan closed her eyes and began to recite. 'They're probably already out looking for you, but maybe I should help things along...' She recreated the girl's clipped words to the best of her ability and heard Leo inhale sharply.

"She had a Japanese accent?" he demanded.

"Is that what it is?" Morgan asked.

"What did she smell like?" Donatello asked and she wrinkled her nose.

"It was hard to tell over the sewer, but," she blushed, "a little like Leonardo."

"How so?" he asked in surprise.

"Metal. You both carry the scent of oiled steel," Morgan said, "but she also had some sort of sickly sweet aroma, like frankincense."

"So a Japanese girl with a bad attitude, carrying a katana, and reeking of incense," Donatello summarized.

"You don't think..." Mikey said.

"Karai?" Raphael said with venom. "She wouldn't lift a finger for anyone."

"She's already helped us with Morgan once," Leo protested.

"Only so she wouldn't have to deal with the competition!" Raph spat.

"Who is she?" Morgan asked, worried by their reaction.

"Karai is a conflicted young woman," Master Splinter said into the sudden silence. "One who finds herself in the unenviable position of being second in command of the Foot clan. She is also the Shredder's adopted daughter."

Morgan shrank back into the couch cushions at his revelations. Her breathing sped and her eyes flew wide. Raphael twisted his body in front of her to offer a physical shield and she clutched at his shoulders as panic overwhelmed her.

 _A leader of the Foot clan found her?_

Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream, pushing her towards another flashback. Her vision dimmed and she couldn't hear the concerned voices of the brothers around her. She was almost lost to the fear and despair when a deep vibration drew her back to the present.

Raphael was holding her hand, pressing it tightly to his plastron. The rumbling in his chest was deeper than the call she knew and loved. Protective, it spoke to her body on an entirely different level. Her racing heart began to calm.

"Hey," he said taking her face in his other hand. She felt his gaze burning into her eyes. "Stay with me, angel. I ain't gonna let anything happen to ya. Just breathe..."

He was right.

Though Karai's invasion of the sewer threatened her feeling of safety, the girl had not harmed her. And, Morgan realized, four fierce guardians surrounded her. They would protect her, no matter what. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his, breathing in his soothing scent. A few moment's later she pushed him away.

"I'm alright," she said and the deep vibrations quieted, dying away as if they had never been.

* * *

Donatello let out the breath he was holding. His gaze narrowed and snapped to his father's face as the rat emitted a little grunt of approval. Splinter had purposefully triggered one of Morgan's panic attacks to see how she would react when Raphael was present!

Or perhaps he did it to see how Raph would respond. Whatever the reason, Donnie couldn't say he approved, but it was amazing to watch how quickly she recovered under his brother's guidance. She had not had the same reaction with the rest of them. Sadly, he dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Assumptions are only a starting point for understanding," Splinter said. "A wise warrior recognizes the need to investigate further before yielding to negative interpretations."

Their father spoke to the room at large, but his dark eyes pierced Donatello's as he raised his head and the genius got the feeling he was referring to more than their assumptions about the mysterious girl.

"Sensei's right," Leo said. "It might not be Karai. We should return to the spillway and study it further."

"If we're goin' out, let's stop by April and Casey's place," Mikey chimed in.

"You just want to raid the fridge," Raph said.

"No," Michelangelo protested. "It's for something important! We need to check her cell log for the mystery caller. Donnie might track the number back or somethin'. Besides, I bet she's restocked the ice cream bars."

"Told ya," Raphael grumbled. "raidin' the refrigerator."

Donatello grimaced as his brothers resumed their usual bickering. _Couldn't they see nothing had really been resolved?_

"He does have a point, though," Leo said. "About the phone, I mean. And it's dark enough for us to go out. Ok team, let's hit it. It's been too long since we had a proper patrol."

"I ain't going," Raph said. "I won't leave Morgan unprotected while you all go out scrounging' around."

Leonardo stood, throwing his brother an irritated glance, but didn't protest.

"Donatello will stay," Splinter said. "He is still recovering. Raphael, you will go- so as not to leave your brothers short-handed."

Don flinched, knowing that wasn't going to go over well. Raphael's glare could have sliced through steel, but their father returned his stare calmly, not even twitching his whiskers.

"Donnie ain't up to fightin' off the Foot alone if they attack," Raph snarled.

Donatello wanted to protest, but this time Raphael was right. After such severe blood loss, he wouldn't be up to much fighting. He hadn't even been able to train the past few days.

"I will remain and protect my children. Or do you doubt my ability as well?" Splinter asked.

His tone was mild, but there was a dark gleam in his eye his sons knew well. One which practically dared the hot-head to test his theory. Abruptly, Raphael backed down. He hadn't confronted their Master over such matters for many years, but his father never missed a training session and could still defeat each and every one of them barehanded.

"No, Sensei," Raph said, dropping his eyes.

"It will be a short run," Splinter said, turning away and dismissing them, "but be careful my sons."

Leo and Mikey went to the weapons room to outfit themselves, but Raph turned back to Morgan.

"You gonna be ok, sweetheart?" He asked, stroking her hair.

She shivered a little under his caress and the sultry expression on her face made Don's heart clench. He turned rapidly away, his eyes burning, as Raph continued.

"I won't be long," he promised. "If they decide to hang around at April's, I'll head back."

"I'll be fine," she said. "It'll give Donnie and I a chance to catch up."

Donatello's head snapped up. She was right. They were overdue for a long conversation. He set his mouth in a grim line, determined to speak to her as soon as the others left.

"As long as he keeps his hands to himself," Raph growled and Morgan flinched back, surprised.

"Raphael!" she said, shocked. "Are you jealous?"

He didn't answer her accusation, at least not verbally.

As Leo and Mikey trotted out into the darkness of the sewer system, Raphael swept Morgan up in his arms and kissed her so passionately her toes curled. Involuntarily, she moaned into his mouth and a hungry rumble sprang to life in his chest.

Donnie blanched.

 _How am I supposed to tell her after that?_

"Raphael, we were planning to leave _sometime_ tonight," Leo scolded from the door.

The red-banded turtle smirked as he set her gently back on her feet.

"Just makin' sure she's got somethin' to remember me by," he said, and with a last sharp glance at a pale-faced Donatello, he jogged off after his leader.


	30. Confessions

**A/N: Heyla all! Sorry it's taken so long to update. Life doesn't always let me write as much as I would like. Just a quick note to tell you the previous chapter went through some revisions. My brain went on vacation and I messed up the Points of View so it read a little... weird. You may want to skim over it briefly before continuing.**

 **~Shadow**

 **Confessions**

 _She's lovely. An untamed rose blooming amidst the darkness and chaos of my life._

Her glossy brunette hair mussed slightly. A few wild curls escaping from behind her ears accented the sharp slant of her cheekbones and gave her an other-worldly cast. She flushed a delicate pink against the pale ivory of her skin and raised a hand to touch soft lips.

Lips Raphael emphatically claimed mere moments before.

Donatello clenched his fists and ripped his gaze away as fiery jealousy coursed through his veins, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. This wasn't like him. Morgan was his friend, Raph his brother. Once, he had been pleased about their union.

Unable to help himself, he again lifted his eyes to meet hers; vivid, glowing incandescent beacons in the dim shadows. Golden brown, jade green, and blue-gray, her unusual tri-colored hazel, scorched their way across the room. Enticing him, drawing his thoughts further from the moral path. A Will-o'-the-Wisp made flesh.

Enamoured, besotted, captivated, enchanted, bewitched; Donatello now understood why legends of the Fae included cautionary tales about their appeal. Morgan Jennings was only half Feyian and he was completely ensnared in her spell.

Staying away from her these past few days had been torturous, yet being in her presence burned. He struggled with his reckless emotions, writhing internally as he gazed at her with hopeless adoration.

She drifted away from the door, her expression an amalgamation of confusion and satisfaction. A tiny smile tugged the corners of her mouth upward. Obviously, she was pleased with Raphael's goodbye.

Donatello was torn. Part of him wallowed in heart-wrenching agony at her indisputable need for his brother. Yet he fought an answering grin.

The smile won.

He could not remain disgruntled with anything which made her so joyful. His eyes softened and his hands relaxed as he watched her petite figure cross the room, so enraptured by her grace, he forgot his father remained with them until he spoke.

"Come and sit," Splinter said. "There is still much to discuss."

Her smile fell away and she hurried her steps, taking her place on the sofa.

"Of course." Her brow creased and she frowned. "Donnie isn't well. Give me your hand, sweetie," she said, reaching across for him, "I can 'scent' you to find the problem."

Morgan's worry gratified him and he wanted to grasp her delicate hand, but he blushed at her misinterpretation and turned away instead. Splinter took wrist, curling her fingers gently back into her palm and patting her arm before releasing her.

"Set your mind at ease, little one," his father said. "Donatello is recovering from his physical trials and will be whole again in a short time. The dissonance you sense within him, and the dissension it is causing is what I wish to speak of."

"How did you know?" she asked.

"You are not the only one who reads auras, child," His father said with a chuckle. "The rhythms of this family, while chaotic, are my lifeblood. When the pulse becomes erratic, I notice."

Donatello flushed again. He hated causing strife. Raph was the dissenter, engaging in argument at every opportunity, he was supposed to be the problem solver. Being the instigator made him uncomfortable in his own shell.

But Splinter's patient calm never wavered.

"Raphael," Splinter continued, "is in love with you. This is a welcome development, as he has held himself apart from others for too long. But there are further... complexities, of which you are not aware."

Morgan blanched, assuming the worst. Her fine skin washing white as fear flashed across her face. Donatello cringed. He promised never to hurt her, yet here she sat twisted in trepidation because of him. He raised a hand, whether in protest or comfort he didn't know but dropped his palm again without touching her.

"Tell me," she whispered.

"I'm the complication," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

"My son," Splinter said. "Your actions saved her life. Do not regret them."

Morgan's brows shot up and she tilted her head, blinking rapidly. "I don't understand."

Donnie sighed.

"After the van-"

His voice broke as the bloody scene flashed before his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "You remained unconscious so long Raphael became... lost. He blamed himself for not protecting you. He withered away... dying right along with you."

"No." Her voice was flat, but her agony, undeniable.

"I couldn't just stand by," Don said. "I knew blood held the key, so I started experimenting and I found some your body wouldn't reject. Ours."

"This is what you worried about telling me?" She asked, beginning to relax. "That you gave me mutated blood? Mikey kinda spilled it already. It's ok, Donnie. Truly, I'm grateful."

"There's more," he said, mouth compressed in a grim line. "The first transfusion was a mix from three of us."

"First?"

Morgan's expression faltered as she realized she wasn't going to like the next part.

"The one in the hospital was a dramatic success. You woke less than 24 hours later and we brought you home."

"There were others?"

"After Raph- left, and in the tunnel two nights ago."

"Donnie," she said, worry creeping into her tone. "Why is that bad?"

"Those two were all from me."

Her brows pulled together as she thought hard, trying to find the issue.

"I wanted you to have the best chance at healing," he said. His voice pleaded with her to understand that he hadn't done this on purpose. "But when the blood was wholly mine, it triggered a side effect I failed to anticipate. A glamour. It's-"

"An enchantment of beauty. A sexually attractive charm," Morgan interrupted.

"Your Feyian family," Splinter said, "can cast them at will."

This time, her complexion turned a sickening shade of light green. Donatello felt his stomach roll as well. She'd heard of the phenomenon and from her expression, the experience wasn't positive. At last, she was getting the picture. He rushed on, wanting to make sure she understood everything in case she shut him out completely.

"I already admired you," he said. "You're intelligent, resilient, kind... one of the finest people I've ever met. I was ecstatic things were progressing between you and Raphael. I wanted you to join our family. I loved you like a sister."

"But?"

"Each transfusion made things change. Drawing me to you more and more," he said, blushing, "physically."

"And Raphael became more protective and hostile," she said with a sigh.

She dropped her eyes to the floor and remained silent so long Don began to worry she might never speak to him again. Eventually, she raised her head.

"What happened in the tunnel?"

"When Raph and I found you, hypothermia set in. You were frozen, blood all over, and I had no idea how long you had left." He swallowed hard to control his voice. "Or how much you may have lost. So I gave you a direct transfusion, arm to arm."

"Donnie!" she scolded.

He winced, expecting her to tell him off for knowing about the glamour and proceeding anyway, but she surprised him.

"Three transfusions in two days? You could have killed yourself!" She said. "Even I know that's too much. What were you thinking?"

"My son often displays a blatant disregard for his own needs when it comes to the healing of others," Splinter said. "It is one of his most endearing, and worrisome, qualities."

"My solution angered Raphael," Donatello said. "He fretted so much I sent him topside to meet April."

"Leaving us alone," she said, beginning to see the seeds of the conflict.

"You were so cold and still in my arms. I've never been so afraid in my life. I thought everything I had done wasn't going to be enough. But you coughed and woke. Do you remember?"

She shook her head, eyes wide.

"You went straight into shock. Breathing too fast, heart racing, panicking. You couldn't understand my instructions. You were hyperventilating. I had to stop you, but I couldn't set you down, so I... I leaned in and..."

He trailed off, averting his eyes, unable to finish.

* * *

Raphael frowned watching his older brother stalk ahead of him, tension written in every line of his body. He expected some sort of rebuke and from Leonardo's posture it wouldn't be long in coming.

He flushed, glad the semi-dark of the tunnel masked his face. The kiss at the door was meant to be short, a reminder to keep Don at arm's length. But once his lips met Morgan's, he lost all control. He was still contemplating it when Leo abruptly halted and shoved him against the wall, pinning him with a rock hard forearm across his plastron.

Without any preamble, he launched into his tirade.

"Stop tormenting Donatello," the leader ordered with a dangerous gleam in his eye. "He doesn't deserve it, and it's only going to bite you in the shell when Morgan finds out."

"Doesn't deserve?"

Raphael thought he was prepared, but his brother's words left him dumbfounded. He grabbed Leonardo's shoulders and pushed back, using the wall for leverage and gaining space to shift into a defensive stance.

"Don't give me that crap Leo. You said you would support me!"

He wished they were further from the lair, but if they had to argue right here, so be it. At least they weren't in front of Morgan. She didn't need another reason to doubt her safety where his brothers were concerned.

"I support your relationship, and Morgan, but ripping out Don's heart was never part of the bargain! He's done nothing but sacrifice himself for her since she got here."

"Bullshit! He told me, flat out TOLD me, he wanted her!"

"He also knew she didn't feel the same way." Leo narrowed his eyes. "Unlike you, I actually spoke with him further about the issue."

They circled each other warily, probing for weaknesses, a dance they had performed many times. Somehow, their confrontations inevitably became physical.

"I can't believe you're defending him," Raph said with a snarl, pain clenching his chest. "He had the gall to kiss her when she wasn't even awake to protest! We've completely crushed bad guys for less."

"It wasn't a kiss."

Raphael stopped cold. Michelangelo never got involved in these tense standoffs. He usually stood back and let them fight, but he wasn't keeping quiet this time. His interjection derailed their pattern.

"What?" Raph exclaimed. "I saw it!"

If he hadn't trusted Morgan was safe with Don, he never would have left them alone. He was jealous, yes, but he never suspected such a betrayal. After all, his brother knew far too much about the abuse she suffered. Yet he had returned that night just in time to see Donatello's lips slip from hers as he fell unconscious.

He trembled at the memory.

"It was more along the lines of CPR," Mikey said, shrugging as his brothers stared at him. "Only, she was breathing too fast instead of not enough." He returned Raphael's look of disbelief with one of guileless certainty. "Would you rather he held his hand over her mouth?"

Raphael straightened and dropped his arms, completely shocked out of attack mode.

"No, but-"

"Think about it," his little brother said, pointing a finger to his head. "You read the file. You know what she's been trained to do. She was awake when we got there. If she believed, for one second, he was trying to take advantage..."

 _She would have attacked him._

But she hadn't been fighting when Raph pulled her away. She'd been clinging, begging Donnie to wake. His rage cooled, as uncertainty gripped him.

 _Have I got it all wrong? Tortured my gentlest brother for no damn reason?_

* * *

"You kissed me."

Morgan said it softly. Gently. Like it wasn't the heinous crime Donatello knew it to be. He could hear her moving, but he didn't dare look up. Not even when she knelt in front of him and rested a hand on his knee.

"I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, or Raph," he said. "But I couldn't think of another way. I hope, someday, you can forgive me."

Morgan tilted up his chin, forcing him to face her. The fierce expression she wore surprised him.

"You don't need to apologize for saving my life. Not to Raphael and definitely not to me. It doesn't matter how you did it. Because of you, I'm still here. The other stuff, we'll sort out together."

"Together?"

His voice broke almost comically on the word as he stared into her glorious eyes. He never dreamed she would forgive him so instantaneously, but it fit her character. Morgan didn't have a vindictive bone in her body.

Days of tension melted away as she leaned in and embraced him without hesitation. She wasn't worried about his unnatural desire. She still trusted him. His arms folded around her, holding her close as profound relief flowed through him.

He couldn't quite believe it.

"How can you-" he whispered, but she cut him off.

"Donatello, you're my best friend and I am not about to let you go."

* * *

An icy wind blew through the grate of the 67th street spillway, making Raphael shiver as he squatted over the dark red stain on the concrete. Silently, he ran his palm over her dried blood and shuddered.

They were meant to be scouring the area for signs of Karai, but he couldn't pull himself away from the marks of Morgan's ordeal. The bright beams of their work lamps illuminated the scene in pitiless detail. Her clothes had dried but still lay in a crumpled heap where Donatello discarded them. Their torn condition mute evidence of the struggle to save her.

Raphael closed his eyes, swaying as the panic and despair from that horrible night pulsed again through his body, but he pushed it aside to concentrate on his memories of Donnie. He wanted to see them clearly, without the red tinge of jealousy.

Looking back on it, his brother had been excruciatingly aware of his feelings. He and Don were close and there was no doubt in Raph's mind the genius could read him as easily as a children's book. His emotions must have been written all over his face.

 _He even offered to let me undress her alone!_

Then there was the emergency transfusion. A feverish light lit his brother's eyes and his face held a grim expression as he plunged the needle into his arm. He knew he was donating too much, yet he was ready to die so Morgan could live.

Raphael grimaced. That was the brother he knew and loved. He hung his head.

 _So Donnie loves her. Is that so bad?_

Leonardo rose from examining boot tracks in the mud and moved to lay a hand on his shoulder when he saw Raph's expression.

"Donatello can't help the way he feels," Leo said, echoing his thoughts. "Leatherhead thinks he's suffering under a glamour from the blood transfusions."

 _A glamour?_

The word sounded familiar and he racked his brain to recall why. Over the last two days, while Morgan rested, Raphael read everything he could find on the subject of elves. He wanted to understand her mixed heritage, but since he alienated his genius brother, he had to do it himself.

The research was fragmented, disjointed. Most of what he found seemed laughably preposterous, including the whole magic thing and he had placed glamours in that category. There _might_ be some scientific explanation, but he didn't possess Donnie's knack for perceiving fact inside fiction.

Leatherhead, on the other hand, was a reputable scientist. If he thought Don's emotions weren't his own, he was probably right. Slowly, Raphael sank from his crouch to sit on the ground with a moan, remorse overcoming him.

 _Is there any way to undo what I've done?_

Donatello didn't deserve his distrust, not after all he'd sacrificed. And Morgan needed a good, solid friend. His jealousy was senseless.

"Over here," Michelangelo called, breaking Raph from his painful reverie.

Mikey was practically at the grate when the brothers joined him. He was balanced precariously on his toes, trying to examine the backside of a rock with the red bandana of a Foot soldier wound about it.

Warily, Leo checked for traps as well before lifting the stone to reveal a small piece of paper. He read it aloud.

 _She really is quite a fetching creature, under the bruises.  
_ _Try to hold onto her this time...  
_ _Hargrove is plotting something with the friend.  
_ _You owe me.  
_ _K._

"Huh," Mikey said. "I guess that answers that question."

"Really? She's passing notes now?" Raph asked. "What is this the third grade?"

"It's not like she has another way to contact us," Leo said.

"She already called April once, you'd think it would be easier," Mikey said.

"Easier for her to be caught by the Shredder," Leo said.

Raph grunted. "I guess we should head back to the lair."

"We should still check in with April and Casey," Leonardo disagreed turning for the nearest manhole. "She's worried about Morgan and Don may want to track the phone number."

Raphael took a last look around as they gathered their lights, remembering the firm resolution on Donnie's face as he tended her.

 _How am I ever going to make this up to him?_

* * *

 _:They are leaving.:_

In the sudden darkness, the fabric of dimensions split. At first, only a pair of glowing white eyes were visible, about six feet from the floor. They narrowed to slits, focused on the backs of the beings departing for the surface. When it was certain they would not look back, a slender male form stepped forth, slipping into the shadows as if he belonged there.

His fine brown hair curled in handsome waves against narrow shoulders and the glow faded from his gaze, revealing his eyes were a startling tricolored hazel. Sharply defined cheekbones and a slightly pointed, beardless chin made him appear young, but the soul peering out from his large eyes was ageless and grieving.

Another figure followed him out of the rip. Four-legged, red pelted, it was shaped a bit like a fox, if foxes grew to the size of small ponies. It stared upward toward its partner with anxious eyes as the rift closed behind them.

For a moment the two hesitated, focusing their senses on the world around them. At last, they relaxed, satisfied they were alone.

 _:Brenellean, could you hear its thoughts?:_ The fox nuzzled gently at the Feyian's leg. _:The flow was too fast for me, but,:_ it sniffed delicately, _:the red one was covered in her scent.:_

 _:His mind was chaotic,:_ its companion answered, clenching a fist. _:Hard to decipher, but in it, she lay right here, injured.:_

He bent to run a finger over the almost invisible stain, mimicking the movement of the large red-banded turtle. Bringing the digit to his mouth, he licked it and spat. His face contorted into a feral snarl, revealing sharp, pointed incisors.

 _:The blood is hers, but mixed with another's,:_ he said. _:She will be slow to heal.:_

 _:I don't understand. If they are Matched, why does he not aid her?:_

The pale man shook his head. _:Perhaps he is not her Match.:_

 _:He took advantage? I will avenge her!:_ The fox growled.

Snarling low in its throat, it lunged toward the exit the turtles used, but Brenellean held it back, gripping its ruff and waiting until it lowered its hackles before releasing it.

 _:Calm yourself, Huntress. I will track them and discover the truth. You seek Mauriagonna. Follow her scent.:_

The fox bowed its head in submission and began to stalk away.

 _:Remember, my sister will not know you,:_ Breneliean called after it _:so do not engage unless she is in immediate peril. I will find you soon.:_

He twisted away to begin his own hunt, wrapping himself in shadow.


	31. Misunderstanding

**Misunderstanding**

Raphael paused on the rooftop of Morgan's apartment building and cast a sharp glance behind him. For the second time in the last ten minutes, his skin prickled a warning. The sensation ran up the back of his neck, over his scalp, and made him furrow his brow. He was not alone. Someone observed his every move with dubious intent.

The others had gone to check in with April, but Raph decided to stop by Morgan's place. She moved into the lair with only a small bag of clothes and though the Foot ransacked the studio there were still things she might like if any of them were recoverable.

He waited, concealed in the grey fabric of the scaffolding across from her window for some time, watching everything with a suspicious glare, yet he found nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps he was simply uneasy about the cameras.

Martin, of the FBI, equipped a system around the building after their escape from the hospital. Hoping, either Morgan would return, or those who took her would investigate the scene. But they were based on the ground level and Raphael easily bypassed them.

Eventually, he drew out his phone and pressed the switch Donatello installed to fuzz any cameras or motion detectors he missed before leaping across the eight-foot gap to her ledge. Moments later he was inside, closing the window and drawing the shade behind him.

He froze in the pitch black. The room was cold and it smelled wrong. Barely a hint of Morgan's scent remained. Warily he strode through room and flicked the light switch. His jaw clenched as illumination flooded the space.

It was empty.

Totally and completely cleaned out. The walls were whitewashed with new paint, the carpet ripped out, and the subfloor bleached. All her furniture, clothes, and trinkets were gone. The kitchenette and bath were equally sterilized. Nothing at all personal remained.

With a low growl, he began to curse. He didn't know who was responsible, but it didn't matter. The Foot, the FBI, all of them seemed intent on making Morgan's life miserable. Why couldn't they leave her alone?

Halfway through the list of every swear word he knew, his skin tingled again. This time, his temper prompted immediate action. He spun on one foot, dropped his center of balance to the floor, and lunged through the empty space behind him.

He saw nothing, but his hands grappled with a person and he executed a perfectly controlled takedown. When he wasn't immediately accosted by another, he figured this gung-ho guy had decided to attack alone.

"Give it up,Tech-y," he snarled. "I ain't interested in playin' with any of Shredder's soldiers tonight."

The unseen warrior writhed, trying to escape, but his grip was nigh unbreakable. He pressed a knee threateningly to its neck and it shimmered, beginning to reveal itself.

Something was terribly wrong.

Horribly familiar brunette curls trailed over his fist, a slim white throat lay under his knee, and frightened tri-colored eyes peered sideways at him. Jumping back, he released his hold. His heart pounded in his ears and his stomach rolled with dread at what he had done, for his unknown watcher was Morgan.

 _I attacked her. Brutalized her! Why did she stay silent?_

She lay where he left her, cheek against the wood flooring.

"Morgan, Sweetheart!" he said in complete agony, "Can ya move?"

He knelt, his hand hovering over her shoulder, almost afraid to touch her lest he cause further damage. She turned slowly, moving only her head to face him. The hate in her eyes made him falter.

She lunged. Pushing herself off the floor faster than he had ever expected her to move. Her hands, curled into terrible claws, swiped at his face. With a cry, he flipped backward out of reach, his only defensive option that wouldn't injure her.

 _What the hell is going on? Why did she leave the lair? Did my aggressive behavior trigger her attack response? Does she even realize it's me? Is she trapped in another waking nightmare?_

Perplexed, panting, and wide-eyed, he stared across the room at her fierce form. He wanted to run to her. Instead, he held his position, every muscle motionless. He would leave if he had to, but only as far as she forced him to go. He could watch over her from outside the window, but perhaps if he was still, she would calm.

Another warning tingled over his skin.

With Morgan in front of him, her scent should be overwhelming, yet he smelled nothing but paint and bleach. Her face, shoulder, and wrist were flawless. Though she might be hiding her wounds, he didn't think it possible with her mind so out of focus. And something was wrong with her posture. She hunched over, creating an odd bend in her back. She sensed his appraisal and straightened, smirking at him.

If he possessed hair, it would all be standing on end.

Raphael thought he'd been punched in the gut. All his breath rushed out in an instant, for that smile was a horrible parody of her sunrise.

This wasn't Morgan.

Some demon had taken her place.

The facial features, hair, and eyes were so similar they might be mistaken for twins, but this being was much taller, sported sharply pointed incisors, and a cruel expression. As the shock wore off, Raphael realized this look-a-like was actually male. The longer he analyzed, the more differences he spotted. Abruptly, the bubble of the glamor burst and though the unknown man still resembled Morgan, he was not a doppelganger.

"Who are ya?" Raph demanded. "Why are ya in Morgan's apartment?"

The smile faded from the creature's face.

"It is I who will ask the questions," he snapped. "What claim do you lay on Mauriagonna?"

Its voice was smooth, low, and deep. Definitely masculine. The name he spoke was fey, formal, and flowed elegantly off his lips, but it was plain what he was asking.

 _Mate_.

The answer in Raphael's mind was immediate, accompanied by an explicit memory of last night, but he would never reveal such to a stranger.

"None of your damn business," he spat instead, drawing a sai. "What do ya want with her?"

The creature frowned, ignoring his hostile reaction.

"You are Matched, yet you have not claimed her entirely. Nor have you deigned to heal her. Is she tarnished? Why do you leave her wanting and in agony?"

Raphael's face heated as the blood rushed in.

 _How could this vile impostor know anything about us? True, we haven't completed the act in the strictest sense, but I never left her unsatisfied... And tarnished?_

"Ya filthy bastard!" he roared stepping forward threateningly. "Don't talk about Morgan like that! She's an angel."

 _An' I would help her in an instant if I could. The other is her choice. Always her choice. I do my best to please her, but I will never force myself upon her._

A horrible slideshow of images from that damn file paraded behind his eyes. Scars, blood running from her still form, tears streaming down her face. Morgan bound in dozens of demeaning positions and tortured with devices he couldn't even imagine. A thousand pictures he wished to unsee, culminating in the horrible raised brand on her hip.

 _Never_.

In front of him, the creature's face went from puzzled to agonized to furious in the time it took to blink. He moved so fast he disappeared before he struck. Only a lifetime of training and finely honed reflexes allowed Raphael to block the flurry of deadly blows raining down.

Instantly, he countered. Raph might not be able to see the target, but his body knew where it had to be. He palmed his sai, whipping the blades in towards his elbows and using the heavy pommels so his strikes would impact hard, but be non-lethal. He wanted answers and he wouldn't get them if he made a mistake with live steel.

His own blows connected and the Fey reappeared across the room, bleeding from a split lip, one arm hanging limp and numb at his side.

He spat red.

"How dare you!" he shouted. "Do you not know the wrath our family will bring upon you for this? The world will shudder at your fate. You will suffer for eons!"

"How dare I what?" Raph replied. "Kick your butt? I ain't even begun to dish out the pain. An' the only way it's gonna end is when you spill about how I can fix Morgan!"

Confusion flashed in the Feyian's eyes and he stepped back.

"Twice you expressed a wish to heal Mauriagonna. I do not understand. You claim only her pleasure, yet you show me images of her pain."

"What?" Raphael said, his patience wearing thin.

 _:In your thoughts!:_ The Feyian snarled in his head. "How could you watch such torture and do nothing?" It continued aloud. "Are you so twisted a creature? Does her agony bring you joy?"

"NEVER!" Raphael yelled, his mind in perfect agreement.

 _Never! She is my angel, my beloved. I'd sooner die..._

"Explain," the creature demanded.

Despite his anger and confusion, something in the Feyian's eyes made Raph answer. A flash of desperation, guilt, and real pain at Morgan's treatment.

"She was held captive for years before I met her. By a bastard who documented everything she went through. I read the file."

 _And wish to God I hadn't_.

"Why do you not heal her now?"

Raphael shrugged, holstering his weapons since it seemed they were back to talking. He forced his body into a deceptively relaxed pose so he could resume the fight at a moment's notice.

"I don't know how."

* * *

Morgan rested lengthwise on the couch, head pillowed on Donatello's lap. Her eyes closed as he ran his fingers gently through her hair from scalp to tip. He found it fascinating, having none himself, and his repetitive stroking soothed the distraught girl.

He was happy to provide something, anything, to keep her mind off the pain.

At first, he thought it was her meds wearing off, but he'd given her more painkillers to no effect. Against his better judgment, he increased the dosage further when she began to cry, not understanding why she was experiencing such agony.

It hadn't helped.

Finally, he gave her a sedative and hovered worriedly. Trying everything he could to comfort her as Master Splinter paced nearby. Tears still gathered under her lids and poured down her cheeks, but she had, at least, stopped sobbing.

"Sensei," he said as Morgan shuddered again in his lap, "The others have been gone for hours and her condition is getting worse. I'm beginning to think we should call them back."

"What would that accomplish, my son?" Splinter asked. "Perhaps it is better Raphael does not observe her in such pain."

"That's just it, father. When Raph was here, she hardly needed any medication at all. Now he's gone and she's feeling the bulk of her injuries."

"You believe your brother has a physical healing effect on Miss Jennings?"

"As ironic as it is, yes," Don said with a sad smile. "I think they established a symbiotic relationship."

Splinter's whiskers twitched and he raised a brow.

"It's not uncommon," Donnie said. "Interspecies reciprocal altruism is a well-documented occurrence in nature. Everyone knows about the clownfish and the sea anemones. Mutant turtles and the half-Feyian could be next on the list."

It might have been the pain or the drugs, but somehow his explanation struck Morgan as incredibly funny. She began to snicker then to laugh outright, even though it stressed her stitches. Donnie frowned.

"That wasn't really a joke," he complained, "It simply came out awkwardly."

"Come on," she gasped through a giggle as she reached up and traced the downward curve of his mouth. "Admit it. It was a bit funny."

"What's funny?" Michelangelo came bounding into the lair and flopped into the recliner opposite the couch. "What'd I miss?

"Donnie... made... a... joke..." Morgan panted through her laughter and tears.

"Nuh-uh!" Mikey exclaimed in such a tone of disbelief it set Morgan's giggles off again.

"It wasn't a joke!" Don protested. "I was explaining mutualism and-"

"Girl, you got to get out more if you think Donnie's lectures are amusing," Michelangelo interrupted, "But I'm glad to see you two worked things out."

He winked at Donatello, but his eyes narrowed as he examined Morgan more carefully. Under the smile and the tears, her face was pale. Dark circles ringed her eyes and she breathed in short little bursts which screamed she was in pain.

"Donnie," Mikey said in an even tone, "What's going on with our girl here?"

He didn't want to accuse Don of anything, but something was definitely off. Leonardo strode in and scrutinized the pair on the sofa, noted the same signs his brother had, and inhaled sharply. Donatello sighed, looking around for his red-banded brother, surprised he hadn't snatched Morgan right off his lap.

"It's nothing an hour or so with Raph can't fix," he muttered. "Where is he anyway?"

"He's not here?" Leonardo asked. "He diverted to Morgan's place to look for salvage hours ago. I thought he'd beat us back."

Morgan tensed and Donnie rubbed her shoulder.

"It's OK," Don said, sending Leo a warning glare. "I'm sure he's in the tunnels headed home."

She closed her eyes again but didn't relax. A fixed expression of concentration appeared on her face.

"I can't feel him. He's not nearby..." she said, her tense posture tightened even further in fear. "But something else is."

Her frightened whisper made Leo snapped to attention. Placing a hand on his sword, he turned toward the door.

"Just one?" he asked in his calmest tone, "Or are there more? Do you know what it is?"

"One," she squeaked through a throat so tight she could barely breathe. "Not human, but big, very big and angry."

"Where is it, my child?" Splinter asked, moving to the couch. His fist tightened on the end of his walking stick and he closed his eyes. His nose twitched as he scented the air.

Morgan pointed to the South-East.

Mikey bolted out of the recliner into Don's lab, flipped a bunch of switches on the heads up display, and began to clear the area via camera.

"How far, Sweetie?" Donnie asked, hands still stroking her hair.

He might not be up to fighting, but he could try to keep her calm. Splinter nodded at him. The last thing they needed was for her to go into fight or flight mode when there was a true threat on the horizon.

"I got nothin'," Mikey said, scrolling through the cameras again.

"It's close," she whispered, "less than a block away."

Splinter inhaled again and his eyes widened at the musky scent. Leonardo drew his sword as a deep growl echoed through the tunnel outside the door, followed by a series of short yips.

Morgan shuddered in Don's lap, clutching his arm.

Donatello grimaced, tired of feeling helpless where she was concerned. There had to be something more he could do. He couldn't stand the fear pinched expression on her face.

 _I've had enough._

He squared his shoulders and the command rang through their home to sensors on every side.

"Initiate lair lockdown, authorization Donatello-Alpha-Zed-One-Zero-Six-Seven-Six."

All around them, mechanical noises sprang to life. Gears ground together, iron shutters clanked, and huge metal bolts shot home as every entrance was sealed. A massive steel plate dropped from above to shield the whole front wall, blocking access to the main door.

The horrendous clang made Morgan cover her ears and cower in his arms.

"Sorry," he said with a gentle hug. "You're safe now. I salvaged most of that plating from a defunct missile silo. Nothing's going to get through."

She collapsed against him and began to cry softly in relief, burying her face into his neck.

* * *

"Now it's your turn to answer somethin'," Raphael said. "Who the hell are you?"

The Feyian wiped his mouth of blood and glowered.

"I am called Brenellean of House Ternellacentrine."

"You're Feyian, ain't ya'?"

Brenellean smiled, exposing his sharp teeth.

"I'm surprised you know the proper term. Perhaps Mauriagonna remembers more than I thought. Take me to her."

Raphael shook his head, his eyes never leaving the Feyian's face.

"Tell me how to heal her."

"Why would you trust me?"

"I don't. But if it's simple an' won't hurt her, I might try it."

"It would be simple, were you both Feyian. But Mauriagonna is only half. And you are..." Brenellean's gaze raked him from head to toe, "unknown."

"So?" Raph said, tensing his muscles. "You sayin' I can't do it?"

"I don't know," Brenellean said, rubbing his arm and moving to lean against the wall. "When a Feyian couple are Matched, they become... synchronized, I guess is the best word in your tongue. One's heartbeat matches the other, they can sense each other's presence over a vast distance, feel the other's feelings. Their bodies adapt, each responding exactly in the way the other needs.

If one is injured, their relationship becomes intensely physical and during the resulting... activities, pheromones and hormones are released which instigate our cell regeneration process." He shrugged. "I don't know if Mauriagonna inherited those traits, or if your scent would trigger them."

"She did," Raphael said, thinking of the horrible silver serum Charlie forced on her. "Does it hurt?"

The Feyian looked startled and shook his head."Not when the couple is Matched. There is a way to initiate the healing process without a pairing, but only the military use it. Hardened soldiers often break at the pain a single attempt causes. No one is allowed to do it more than once. On second injury, the wounded are sent home. Their minds can't handle the strain."

Raph's jaw tightened.

 _Morgan was forced through such a process dozens of times._

Brenellean hissed at the thought and bared his teeth. "Who did this? I will destroy them."

"Get in line, buddy," Raph said, then narrowed his eyes. "Stay outta my head. What's your interest anyway?"

He had a fairly good idea, but he wanted to hear it from the guys lips.

 _If he's family, why is he only showing up now? Where was he when Morgan needed him?_

"Mauriagonna is my sibling," Brenellean said. "If I had known she was in difficulty, I would have come sooner." His eyes flashed almost red for a moment. "She was supposed to be safe with her adopted human family. We were not to interfere."

Raph grunted. "She was. They passed away."

Brenellean shook his head and sighed.

"Time moves differently here. Mortals age so quickly. I hardly expected to find her at puberty, much less nearly Matched."

"Nearly? I thought you said we were."

"You have committed, she has not yet... accepted."

"Any other hang ups to this healing operation I should know about?"

Brenellean tilted his head as he puzzled his way through the statement, a movement so like hers Raph blinked in surprise.

"One other 'hang up', as you say," the Feyian said. "Her blood is full of someone else."

Raphael frowned. Donnie. Morgan's blood had been supplemented a number a times with his brother's.

"Will it make a difference?" Raph asked.

Brenellean shrugged.

"I don't know. Were the blood from another Feyian, it would carry the same genetic triggers, but I do not recognize the type mixed with hers. It may impede the process."

Raphael raised a brow but didn't inquire as to how Brenellean knew. Besides, he already had a way to counter the problem. Don said Raph's blood would mutate the foreign cells back into hers.

If he understood the Fey, all Morgan needed to heal was a small transfusion of his blood and, he suppressed a blush, sex. He was about to ask bluntly if this was the case when he began to feel strange. Light headed and jumpy.

His eyes darted around the room, searching for danger as all his internal alarms went off at once. He tensed, reaching for a weapon. Brenellean squinted at him.

"What is it?" the Feyian asked.

"I'm not sure," Raph said.

The tension wound tighter and an ache began in the back of his mind. He shook his head and stared hard at the Fey across the room. He swore, for just a second, he heard Morgan's voice shouting his name.

"Ya playin with me again?" he asked.

Brenellean's eyes widened and he crouched into a defensive posture. "No. There is cause for concern? You feel her?"

A shrill beeping shattered their intense concentration on each other and Raph snatched his phone off his belt. An odd alert was displayed. 'Lair lockdown'. His blood ran cold. Donnie installed that system years ago as a protection of last resort.

A defense for when their home was in danger of imminent breach.

* * *

Morgan drew in a deep breath and winced as the sharp stab shot through her body from head to toe. Everything hurt so damn much. Tears leaked from her closed eyes and she muffled another sob.

Michelangelo wasn't fooled. He flinched as she twitched next to him on the sofa, reaching out to rub her back soothingly when she whimpered. She had experienced many types of pain in her life and dealt with them all, but this was different. Every cell of her screamed for something outside herself and nothing she did satisfied the need.

The others gathered in the kitchen, discussing their next course of action, but she could still make out their low voices in between her own moans.

"What, exactly, is wrong with her?" Leonardo asked. The strong, decisive leader sounded a bit desperate and more than a little angry.

"All I've got are theories," Donatello said. "The pain of her injuries returned slowly after everyone left, but now she seems to be experiencing the symptoms of accelerated withdrawal as well."

"From what?" Leo asked. "What were you giving her, Donnie? And why did you stop?"

"Not from what," Don said, correcting his older brother. "From who. I believe she and Raphael formed some sort of bond. The longer he's gone the worse she feels."

Raphael's name surged across her consciousness and the craving, the need, latched onto it with a thousand sharpened teeth. It gnawed through her flesh, sending sharp needle-like pricks over her body until she wanted to scream.

 _RAPHAEL, please! I need... I must... PLEASE!_

His name became her mantra. Circling through her head so loud she almost didn't hear the rest of the conversation.

"How does that work?" Michelangelo asked, over another groan. "I mean, is it something on his skin? Something you could replicate? You've got samples of everything about us on file, right?"

"I don't think so, Mikey. More than likely, it's pheromones. And I never bothered to bottle the stink coming off you guys. It's hard enough to live with on a daily basis."

"Smell?" Mikey's voice went up a whole octave, the way it did when he got all excited about an idea. He reached out and patted Morgan's shoulder. "I'll be right back..."

He dashed away, but his presence returned in seconds. With it came relief.

Spicy and sweet, woodsy and smokey, strong and masculine- Raphael's scent overwhelmed her, soothed her stinging skin and silenced her screaming mind. Instantly she stilled, her body ceased its writhing, and she clutched this miraculous cure close to her face.

"Is that..." Leo asked

"Raph's blanket!" Donnie exclaimed. "It'll be full of his pheromones. Mikey, you're a genius. In fact," he rushed over to scoop her off the couch, "until he gets back, the best place for you is in his room."

She gasped when they entered Raphael's personal space and as Don tucked her right into the hot-head's bed, she started to blush. The second her head hit his pillow, she relaxed. The pain ebbed to a dull roar, much easier to deal with as the craving quieted.

Everything in here was covered in his special scent. Surrounded by it, she began to detect subtle differences in variety. Practice gear in the corner smelled of earth and salt from the sweat soaked leather, while his sheets...

Raw desire stormed through her and she bit back a moan of another sort, entirely inappropriate for the present company. She clutched the covers near her chin and locked her fingers to keep them above the blanket.

Donnie patted her hand.

"Better?" he asked, leaning over her with a note of anxiety in his voice.

"Much," she said, "I think I'd like to... be alone for a while if that's alright."

"Of course," Don said. "We're here if you need us. I've sent Raph the details of the lair lockdown, and as soon as I hear back from him, I'll let you know. I'm sure everything will be ok."

"Mmm," she said, and raised a palm to cup his cheek. "Thank you, Donnie, for everything."

Donatello fled the room, shut the door, and leaned heavily against it, clutching the knob behind his shell to maintain his footing as his legs shook so hard they almost gave out beneath him. A soft, intimate sound from behind the worn wood made him cover his eyes with his other hand, blushing furiously as his mind conjured all sorts of scenarios he should not be imagining.

He'd barely made it out. When she touched him... he shuddered and forced himself to move away from the forbidden fruit.

He should have had Mikey take her. His little brother would not be affected by her abrupt shift in moods, nor would he have been embarrassed by her sudden, obvious need. Michelangelo regarded all such things as a natural part of life and was rarely stressed by them.

Donnie on the other hand... The moment they crossed the threshold, her scent had deepened. Her body relaxed in his arms before tensing again in an entirely new way. The flush in her cheeks and the gleam of lust in her eyes made it hard to keep his voice even and his hands to himself as he put her in bed.

 _Raph better get his butt home soon._

Donatello could handle Morgan when she was happy, hurt, or frightened, but he sure as shell couldn't resist her desire.

"Mikey!" Don snapped as he cut across the living area, "keep an ear out for Morgan. I'll be in the lab."

The door slammed behind him and he strode to the small room off the back of his workspace. An emergency shower was installed there in case of chemical spills, but right now he had a crisis of another sort.

He rapidly stripped his gear, stepped in, and turned the water on full, setting the knob to 'cold.'


	32. Portents

**Portents**

"Why haven't they called?" He demanded.

Karai exchanged a glance with the rather harried secretary and Julia unbent enough from her usual impeccable calm to grimace at the young kunoichi behind her employer's back. She quickly hid the expression as Charles Hargrove turned from the window to pace across the office.

"It may take some time, sir, for them to trace the number," Julia said as he completed a lap and returned to his desk. "If they've even come across it yet. We didn't want it to seem too conspicuous."

She looked to Karai for corroboration, but the ninja simply shrugged. "It takes as long as it will," Karai said. "Donatello may be distracted by something else at the moment, but he will eventually follow up on the caller ID. It's his nature to be overly thorough. The real question is, are you prepared to act when he does?"

Charlie smiled, showing all his teeth. Julia backed up a step.

"Of course," the businessman said, leaning forward on his fists. "The recording is finished and the girl is in place. Are your father's men as organized?"

Karai threw him a look filled with disdain and rose fluidly from her chair. She stalked over with a dangerous air of sexuality and braced her hands against the desk, meeting him glare for glare. Mimicking him with a mocking tilt of her head that caused her rich black hair to flare out dramatically.

"The Foot Clan always stands ready."

Julia winced as Charlie's eyes flashed, but Karai ignored him, turning her back on the man and seating herself on the top of his desk with a little hop. She crossed her black booted legs, sliding one over the other in a sinfully slow caress that made even Julia's eyes widen. Abruptly, Karai was cleaning her fingernails with the tip of a seriously sharp knife neither were aware she was carrying.

"What makes this particular subject suited to my father anyway?" she asked.

Charlie examined the back of her head with a curious expression. Karai threw a sultry glance over her shoulder at him. In response, he crossed his arms, broke out his most charming smile, and seated himself, propping his feet up on the desk.

"How much do you know about my profession, Karai?"

"What's to know? You break women. Force them to be sex slaves."

Charlie was shaking his head, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Not at all, my dear girl. You're describing the average human trafficker with no clue what he's doing. I run a sophisticated selection service and training regime for elite clients with extremely specific criteria. Bedmates are only a small percentage of my product."

The ninja's smoldering stare proclaimed her doubt.

"Don't believe me? Take Julia here. She was an apt pupil. Smart as a whip, mean like a Doberman, and totally devoted. At the request of a CEO of a fortune 500 company, we put her through business school, imprinted the social codes of corporate conduct, and taught her the subtle art of manipulation. When she graduates, she'll be implanted in his competitors workforce where she will rise rapidly to the top and instigate a hostile takeover from within."

"You didn't answer my question," Karai pointed out.

An expression of sublime satisfaction suffused Charlie's face.

"Morgan is... my masterpiece."

Karai raised a single, skeptical brow.

"The culmination of a lifetime of experience. I almost can't believe how well she turned out. She exceeds your father's expectations at every level. The raw material was fabulous, of course. We observed her for months as one of several candidates, before moving forward.

The girl is beautiful but doesn't believe it. She's intelligent but her passions make her easy to control. She's intuitive, adaptable, and not easily dominated. But that makes her defeat so much sweeter.

She's been trained in the arts of pleasure and pain, retaliates when attacked, yet retains such innocence. Plus, her unusual DNA allows almost infinite freedom on the physical front. "

Karai's eyes grew cold, hard as ice, but Charlie matched her stone like gaze.

"I am not the sentimental type, my dear, nor a collector. But I do recognize a rare jewel when I see one. Morgan was a diamond in the rough. Now that I've polished her, you can appreciate all the facets," he finished with a smug little smirk.

"That's a lot of hype," Karai said as she jumped down and stalked for the door. "She better live up to it."

The door slammed with a certain finality.

"She does," Charlie said with venom, "and I'll be damned if I'm going to give up my prize."

The secretary closed her eyes and shook where she stood, not quite believing her ears. Was he actually going to move against the powerful leader of the Foot?

"Julia," he snapped. "How's that other plan coming?"

* * *

 _:Your pardon, Brenellean,:_ the Huntress said with a whine and a little bow of her furry head. Her softly pointed ears flicked back in shame. _:Mauriagonna was suffering. I attempted to turn her captors attention outward, but they barricaded themselves instead. Now she is worse!:_

It slunk forward, tail down under the disapproving stare of its master.

 _:It is the Longing, little one,:_ Brenellean said, _:not the result of issues with her guardians. But all will be well soon. Her Match returns and these others have been informed of our little... misunderstanding.:_

As he spoke, the groaning sound of metal grating against metal echoed through the shaft. Heavy-duty clockwork clanked and motors strained to lift the massive plates and iron shutters back into their open positions.

Brenellean drew further into the dark dimensional rift, pulling the edges of shadow almost entirely together as a hundred paces along the tunnel a panel of bricks jutted into the space and slid aside.

A single figure emerged. Banded in blue and armed with a sword held at the ready, he swept the emptiness with an intense stare and fixed his steely gaze on the point of the rift.

The Huntress bared her teeth, but Brenellean quieted her with a touch. He knew first hand the skill these warriors possessed and there was no reason to antagonize them.

He stepped through the breach, allowing it to fall closed, effectively trapping the Huntress in shadow. She howled, not liking his choice to face this stranger alone, but a sharp glance silenced her. The turtle's head tipped to the right as he focused on the sound though his eyes never strayed from Brenellean.

 _These beings are full of surprises._

First Raphael detected his presence at the former lodging of his sister, then this one located him here. Now, it seemed they 'heard' the shadow realm. Something the Feyian never needed to guard against. Perhaps the Fey had been too long absent from this world. Its creatures had changed, adapted, under their very noses.

Brenellean gave the turtle a shrewd stare and a nod of respect but did not otherwise move. In return, the warrior sheathed his sword and gave a small bow, fist pressed into his open palm. Though he wisely never dropped his eyes.

"You are Brenellean?" the turtle asked.

He was startled, but not by the turtle's use of his name. Raphael had phoned his family to explain. No, his surprise was for the smooth, controlled mannerisms this one displayed. Mauriagonna's Match was all brashness and harsh words, but here was a being who could be reasoned with.

He reached out with his mind to discern what the warrior truly thought of him and hit a wall. A consciousness so focused he could not even read stray emotions.

 _No wonder this one is the leader._

"I am," he answered. "You, I presume are Leonardo?"

"Yes."

 _Straight forward, calm. Steady of hand and eye. An excellent companion for my Mauriagonna._

"I wish to apologize for the earlier actions of my partner," the Feyian said. "I fear she believed Mauriagonna at risk and tried to distract you by means of a more direct threat."

"Why did she think Morgan was... in danger from us?"

Brenellean sighed. He did not want to waste time on non-essentials but in the effort of building trust, he supposed an explanation was due.

"She is a _Hunter_."

He emphasized the word to clarify it was more than a simple description, more along the lines of a title. "A being of the half-world between mine and thine. Long ago, her race formed strong mental bonds with us. A gift they bestowed upon our entire family, for they viewed us as a pack.

Mauriagonna is my sibling thus, my companion's senses extend to her. But she did not grow up practicing her psychic acuity. Her thoughts do not come through clearly. The Huntress sensed fear and pain and assumed the worst."

"I assure you, Morgan's suffering is not our doing," Leonardo said. "She is an honored guest in our home. We are sheltering her from those who injured her, protecting her from further harm."

"I know," Brenellean said.

A rueful smile lit his face, straining his split lip. He raised a hand and rubbed cautiously across his jaw. "I held a rather... intense discussion about it with Raphael."

"Then it's my turn to apologize," Leonardo said with a small answering grin. "For my brother has a tendency to strike first and ask questions later."

"We were both operating under mistaken assumptions, but I believe our goals are the same. I wish to protect my sister. May I see her?"

The turtle's eyes narrowed.

"Answer some questions first," he said.

 _Confident, yet cautious. I could grow to like this warrior._

Brenellean inclined his head.

"We were informed the Feyian held no love for those of mixed blood."

 _Informed? I did not think many were left who still understood the old ways or believed the tales. I wonder who this informant may be?_

"You are correct. The general population would not tolerate even so beautiful a one as my sister if they knew of her bloodline," he admitted.

"So, why are you here?"

"I was the one who sheltered her, out of sight of the ruling council, for her first two years of life. I smuggled her across the half-world to this plane, and I vetted her new family," Brenellean said, drawing himself upright. "I am her closest sibling, and I have a right to see her. To be sure she is well."

"Where were you for the last six years?" A furious voice demanded. "Because she is certainly not well!"

A second armed figure joined them in the tunnel and a hurricane of images forced their way into Brenellean's thoughts. Battering against his frantic mental shields with the force of a wrecking ball.

Mauriagonna torn and bruised, bleeding and broken. Twisted into horrible postures. Some sexual in nature while others promised pure pain. Some were familiar, he had seen them before in the thoughts of Raphael. Many were even worse than what the red-banded turtle had shown.

 _His brother sheltered Raphael from the worst of it._

It was a devastating epiphany, a telling detail that illustrated this family's devotion, but he had little time to consider it as a veritable movie of still life images whirled about him, driven by a powerful anger. A forceful, intelligent mind. Untrained, yet determined to make him witness, and regret, what his absence had accomplished.

 _Gods above and below! What this one could do with the simplest of psychic training!_

But he could not think on that now, as his body rebelled. The Feyian's stomach heaved and his heart clenched in his chest. His race were renowned for their heartless violence, but here were scenes even he could not imagine.

Rage flared to life in his eyes, turning them a brilliant crimson. It was all he could do not to launch himself at the source in a vain attempt at vengeance. But the fault did not lay with these stalwart protectors.

The leader stared back and forth between them, unable to perceive the battle they were waging, yet somehow knowing what was occurring, regardless.

"Don," Leonardo said with a note of warning in his order. "Stand down."

But the other was too intent on his quarry, stepping in forward and pressing his advantage with a threatening glare. Brenellean met his gaze and recognized the fire of obsession burning there. He inhaled, scenting the one before him and understood. This one's blood flowed through her veins. He was bound to her beyond his control.

Brenellean's eyes softened and he held up a hand, forestalling Leonardo's next order. The red faded from his eyes and tears gathered instead. A single crystal drop slid down his face and he made no move to wipe it away.

"Donatello."

The turtle tensed as Brenellean spoke his full name.

"No excuse or explanation will assuage your anger at my absence. I understand, for none will satisfy my own," he said. "I should have been there."

"You couldn't have known."

The soft feminine voice made all three turn. Mauriagonna stood hesitating on the threshold, prepared to bolt at a moment's notice. A fourth turtle, banded in orange, was behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders in support.

Brenellean was stunned, unable to draw his eyes away from her petite figure.

Pale-faced and disheveled, with a blanket wrapped around her, she was the picture of distress. A five-inch slice crossed her white cheek, inflamed an angry red and accented with fine black stitches. The whole side of her face was the mottled yellow and brown of healing bruises. A more recent cut with a deep purple bruise marred the clear skin of her forehead.

His eyes skimmed the rest of her body, noting the careful way she held herself, the slump of her left shoulder, and the presence of a sling holding her arm erect. Her wrist was bound in something stiff, an amazingly light looking contraption that never-the-less functioned as a cast.

A burst of thought Donatello was certainly unaware he was sharing ran through a list of injuries, both seen and unseen, as his own eyes followed the same path along her form. Brenellean hissed in reaction and tried to move to her side. For though he knew she was not whole, actually seeing her expression twisted in agony was altogether different.

The brothers, however, interpreted his action poorly. Michelangelo spun, putting his shell protectively between them. Donatello stepped forward with a growl and Leonardo pulled a sword and fell back into a flanking position.

"Peace!" Brenellean halted and threw his hands in the air. "Apologies! I mean no harm. It's just-"

"It hurts like hell to see her that way," a rough voice said out of the darkness. "Don't it?"

* * *

Before the growling remark even had a chance to fade, Morgan gave a small cry and broke away from Michelangelo. Rushing between Leo and Don, she darted past the Feyian, throwing herself bodily at Raphael. He caught her in mid-air, crushing her to his plastron as she desperately clung to him.

"I'm sorry, angel," he whispered into her hair as she shuddered and shook against him. "I didn't know, but I understand now. I can fix it. Don and I, we're gonna make this right-"

She cut him off, sealing his mouth in a hungry kiss and the thrum in his chest roared to life. Several long moments passed as she greedily devoured his lips, but soon she sensed the weight of many eyes. Flushing what she was sure was a brilliant shade, she collected herself enough to stop. Ducking her head into his shoulder in embarrassment.

Mikey chuckled. "Well SOMEBODY missed you, hot-head."

Raphael dragged his eyes from Morgan and pinned the Feyian with a hard stare.

"Ya coulda given me a ride back instead of makin' me hoof it."

Brenellean smiled, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"Maybe, but you wouldn't have survived the journey."

 _:Maur?:_

Morgan jerked, startled by the voice in her head, and Raphael's grip tightened reflexively about her. She wasn't sure about this being who claimed to be family, but she did know him. His aura pulsed with a glow she recognized though she had to reach back a long way to match it to memory.

 _:Maur? Can you hear me?:_

It felt odd, the mental touch, yet familiar. Had she always spoken with him this way? His presence tickled at the edges of her thoughts.

 _:Brenna?:_

She twisted to face in his direction, confusion on her face as she recalled the nickname. Raphael lowered her to her feet but kept a protective arm around her waist.

 _:You remembered!:_

She heard the smile in his intense thought, but it didn't make her any more secure. She shrank back, tucking herself further under Raphael's massive form.

 _:Don't worry, little one, I understand this is overwhelming so I won't stay. You need to heal. But before I go, there are few things you must know. Firstly, I am sorry. There are no words to express how much. I should have devised more stringent watch. I failed you as a protector... and a brother.:_

She shook her head and felt Raph's eyes move from her to the Feyian and back again.

"You didn't," she whispered. "You weren't in a position to see."

 _:You are kind, dear sister, but forgiveness cannot assuage my guilt. Just know, when the time comes, you will be avenged.:_

The anger in his thought made her flinch and Raphael let out a little growl, uncertain what was under discussion, but not liking her reactions.

 _:Secondly,:_ Brenellean continued, _:the Longing you feel is not irrational.:_

She flushed again, brighter than the first. It was obvious from his thoughts he perceived her deep need for Raphael. The flame which burned so bright and hot inside she almost could not stand it. Even now, in this tense stand-off, all she wanted to do was throw herself atop him and, despite all the eyes, make love until she was exhausted.

Luckily her companions could not follow their train of thought, but the brash and open frankness of his remark startled her. At her sharp inhalation, the turtles tensed as one. She felt Raphael shift his weight to the balls of his feet and his shoulders bunched as he moved to put himself in front of her. Donnie stepped forward as Leonardo flanked them and Mikey went low.

Brenellean ignored them, his gaze intent on her face. She held up a hand and they halted mid-stride.

 _:You fear its source, but this fierce desire, this need, is your own. It is not a result of your tormentor, nor is it unnatural. It is normal... at least for one of the Feyian who has found her Match.:_

 _:I- I am not corrupt?:_

She couldn't bare to ask such a question aloud where all might hear. Her lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears.

 _:No, little sister,:_ his reply was gentle. _:Don't be afraid. This one is meant for you. Let him in.:_

"Enough," Raphael growled at her back. "Get outta her mind."

"You are in good hands," Brenellean continued aloud. "But leaving you alone before was a mistake I will not repeat, so here."

He tossed a small object in their direction. Raphael reached to snatch it out of the air, but Morgan was faster. Her tiny hand shot out and caught the moving projectile as if she could actually see it. She opened her palm to display a smooth, round stone, no larger than a marble.

"If you need me, close your hand around it and call my name," he said. "I'll hear."

He pinned first Raphael, then Donatello with a fierce gaze.

"Heal her and take care," he said almost savagely, "for I will be watching."

And with that, he pulled the shadows around himself and disappeared.

* * *

Hours later, Donatello hesitated outside the sliding screen partitioning off his father's quarters. Uncertain why he lingered, but badly needing reassurance of a sort he hadn't longed for since he was young.

Raphael had made a request of him. One his gut said he should agree to instantly, but his heart and mind had opposing ideas. Like many of his recent thoughts, he wasn't sure he liked where his head was going. His father would have answers. Trustworthy ones not twisted by current events. Yet he loitered outside, uncertain how to even broach the conversation. A soft sigh emanated from behind the door.

"Please come in, my son," Splinter called. "It is much easier to converse when one can observe the face of their companion."

Sheepishly, Donnie slid the panel aside, bowed his respect, and entered. Taking a seat on one of the cushions his father favored over chairs. He let his eyes slide quickly over the contents of the room, lit by the golden glow of a few flickering candles, before meeting his father's calm gaze.

Splinter sat across a low tea table and Don couldn't help but wonder what he perceived as he gazed at his third son.

 _Can he detect the conflict inside? My desperation? My fear?_

He dropped his eyes and tried to decide what to say. The wise old rat broke the silence with a deep chuckle.

"Long ago, I sat before my master in much the same way. Tongue tied and unable to even form the thoughts of which I wished to speak, eyes clouded with desire and rivalry."

Don's face snapped up.

"Does it surprise you?" His father asked. "I was young once. I remember what it felt like. _My_ topic of discussion was a beautiful young woman who intrigued, not only myself but one who was as close to me as a brother. That tale, I fear, is still being played out."

Donatello flinched, well aware of the parallels. They all knew Oroku Saki and Hamato Yoshi loved the same person years ago. Thus had begun their own tragic story.

He bowed his head.

"Raphael has asked my help in healing Morgan," Donnie said to the floor. "A transfusion of his blood as a precursor to their final joining. The Feyian, her brother, said this will pair them permanently and rapidly regenerate her."

"Do you not wish Miss Jennings restored to health?"

Anger flared and Don's voice became rough.

"Of course I want her well! But ..." He raised his head and pain quickly replaced the fury in his eyes. "The transfusion will erase our bond. I can't, I won't let that happen."

Splinter's whiskers twitched and he lifted a brow.

"Not long ago you wished to be rid of it. What has changed?"

Donatello's eyes were lit with a passionate fire as he met his master's gaze.

"I did not wish to drive her away with my senseless desire. I would have done anything to make her stay, even destroy my own feelings. But she accepted me, father. She understands me, does not fear."

"She cares for you, my son. But her passion is reserved for another."

"That doesn't matter," Don said, a stubborn set to his shoulders. "I can't risk losing what we've built. I'll suffer it as long as I have too."

"Will the breaking of this blood tie change her feelings?" Splinter asked with a shrewd expression.

Donnie paused to consider. It was only supposed to affect the glamour cast over him. Morgan suffered under no such effect.

"Her feelings should remain intact," he said.

"Than it is the loss of your own desire which stays your hand. Why must you punish yourself?"

He didn't have an answer. Merely an irrational fear everything would be different after the procedure. A sick sensation, swirling in his insides, said he would somehow lose her. He frowned. Irrational anything was not in his nature.

 _Was this the glamour at work?_

"My son, your mind is beautiful. Its workings grant you perceptions far beyond the understanding of those around you and yet... such analysis also plagues you with doubt. It divides your path and allows outside forces to influence your judgment. If you focus solely on the thoughts in your head you are overlooking another important resource. Because you do not consult it, it confounds you."

Donatello shook his head, frustrated. "I don't understand."

Splinter's eyes gleamed softly, reflecting the candles on the table as he gestured to the intricate ink painting on the room dividing screen behind him.

"Look closely my son. Tell me what you see."

Donatello didn't really need to. He remembered the images having spent many childhood hours staring at them.

"History," he snapped without much thought. "And a warning not to repeat it."

"Are you sure?" Splinter admonished. "Perhaps you should look again."

Sighing, Donnie dutifully lifted his gaze and examined the three decorative panels separating his father's sleeping area from the rest of the room. It had served that purpose as long as he could remember. He imagined its tale related somehow to their own clan's story.

He wasn't as familiar as he should be with the Hamato past. History was Leonardo's bailiwick. Don had always been more concerned with their present and, when he could spare a few moments for it, their future.

Still, the painting was beautiful and told a story in its own way. Black-brown ink stained the taupe colored silk, depicting majestic mountains, soft woodlands, and rolling hills. The vast holdings of an ancient family in Japan.

The second panel displayed a prosperous village in the foreground, an imposing palace rising behind. It was a pastoral still life of sorts. A number of people farmed the rice paddies, another group hauled the harvest up the hill toward the manor, and the lord distributed the wealth among the populace.

But there was greed in the ranks. In the background, ministers sent riders on horseback to the neighboring fiefdoms, plotting the clan's downfall. Red ink adorned this section, defining the ornate roofline of the palace and serving as a warning of things to come. Leading the eye across to the final image.

Those messengers brought war upon the village. Red spattered this panel, as battle decimated the surroundings. Warrior fought warrior, houses burned, and the peasants fled in fear. But hope was not entirely absent.

In the lower right corner, if one looked carefully, a large and sinuous beast barred tooth and claw protecting a few hardy souls as they escaped; fleeing into the woods.

 _The Guardian. I'd almost forgotten it._

Once the Hamato clan boasted such a one. A powerful totem animal who took physical form in times of desperate need, shielding the family line from extinction. When he was younger, Donatello believed the tale, needing something larger than himself to hold on to.

His heart clenched in poignant longing at the memory.

As an adult, he knew better. There was no such safety net. Their lives were harrowing, fraught with peril. Enemies were not always physical and figments of the imagination would not appear to save them.

 _We have to save ourselves._

It had been a bitter pill to swallow, but afterward, he dedicated himself to the family's survival. Inventing everything they might need; learning to heal their unique anatomy; fighting to defend the life they'd scratched from the unforgiving world.

 _It's a decent life. Father cares for us. We have each other and a well-forged home in this wilderness. A sanctuary in the shadows._

But in his heart, he realized it would not be enough. They were the last. Without the possibility of love, or unusually accepting mates, there would be no more clan. When they succumbed to the darkness, the Hamato name would be no more. A footnote unremarked in the history books.

 _Morgan turns that logic on its head..._

Everything changed when she entered their lives. Love, of the romantic variety, was no longer inconceivable, for Raphael had fallen into it face first. And perhaps in time, with her unique physiology, there might be a new generation.

"It's us," Donatello said in revelation. "The solid, stable life we've built here is beautiful. All of us working together in harmony to produce a haven, a home."

"And within such paradise, hope and love can overcome many obstacles. However, when one does not learn to be content with what they have, disaster is not long in following," Splinter warned. "A choice lies before you, my son. You may walk the road of the envious minister, who brings chaos and war, or choose the way of the Guardian, safeguarding the next generation."

Donatello bowed, finally understanding, and rose to his feet.

"If you will excuse me, Master? I have equipment to prepare."

The rat smiled.

"Go, my son. All will be as it should."

As Donatello left and slid the screen door closed, his father added in a low voice,

"For I have always known you are a Guardian."


	33. Whole Again

**A/N:**

My Dearest Readers,

I can't tell you how excited I am about taking my idea this far. What started as a short story has become a full-fledged novel, and I wanted to thank you for being so loyal and persevering with me despite my less frequent posting of late.

We are actually nearing the home stretch. I think 7 or 8 more chapters will be all it takes to finish this portion of the tale though I am not yet ready to abandon Morgan and her beau.

That being said, I wanted you to know I've changed the rating of this story from teen to mature, as recent chapters are skewing a shade darker, and more explicit, than I originally imagined. Perhaps it has already crossed that line, perhaps not. Regardless, I feel you deserve fair warning.

If you stay with me, I promise a veritable roller coaster of emotion ahead.

I like where it is going. I hope you enjoy it too.

~Shadow

* * *

 **Whole Again**

It took almost three and a half days for Donatello to create a transfusion station he was confident would perform flawlessly. He couldn't simply draw Raphael's blood and transfuse it into Morgan. There was no telling what it would do to her body or her mind. He wouldn't know the correct ratio, couldn't monitor the transformation, and he was dead set against causing her further harm.

Instead, his solution had three parts. The first drew blood from both participants in a staging area consisting of a pair of tables side by side. Separate containment units would stockpile a measured amount of fluid from each subject.

The second section, monitored under a high-powered microscope of his own invention, commingled their blood. The mutation reaction could be maintained at this station by adding more, or less, of Raphael's sample until transformation had successfully occurred for the majority of cells.

Once complete, the precious solution would be pumped to a holding tank and kept at temperature until enough was prepared to be fed back into her, replacing the blood he removed.

The whole process would take some time to keep her from going into shock. In fact, most of a day, though Raph would only have to be hooked up to the contraption for a fraction of the time.

He could tell she was nervous about it.

Morgan bit her lip as he demonstrated the workings and by the time he was through she was blinking hard, fighting back tears. He was racking his brains for a way to reassure her when his brother interrupted.

"Donnie?" Raphael asked, a skeptical expression plastered across his face. "Why does it look like somethin' out of an old sci-fi movie?"

Donatello scowled as he swung around to shoot Raph an irritated glare, but Morgan giggled. He stepped back to view it with a less clinical eye and found the hot-head was right. There were glass spheres, clear coiled tubes, magnifying lenses, and all sorts of blinking technology. The epitome of the insane inventor's lab.

 _If it makes her happy, why not roll with it?_

He gave his best mad scientist laugh as he took her hand and led her to the first table.

"Mwah-ha-ha-ha. Because it is, my loyal minion. You, my pretty, will lay here and the fiendish monster shall be drained over there."

"Hey!" Raph protested.

But his grumpiness was feigned and Morgan's stifled giggles turned to outright laughter. She picked up a nearby cloth from one of Don's tables and waved it around her head in a sad imitation of a delicate hanky as she played the fainting damsel, lying over her table dramatically.

"Oh, woe is me!"

Raphael smiled at her antics as he took his position on the other table and Don used the distraction to slip the collection needle into his brother's arm almost unnoticed. By the time Raph felt the sting and looked, it was practically invisible under his skin.

"Thanks," he murmured.

Thick, red mutated blood began to flow into one side of the collector and the genius turned to go, but his brother stopped him with a firm grip on his forearm.

"I mean it, Donnie," he said. "Thank you. For this, for saving her... everything."

Don froze, not sure what to say. Finally, he settled on squeezing Raph's arm in return and turned his attention to Morgan.

"Ready sweetie?" he asked as he wiped her skin with iodine.

At her short nod he guided a needle carefully into the vein and watched critically as the crimson liquid, part hers, part his, began to flow. She tensed, lying stiff as a board on the table, and he remembered how much she hated being doctored.

Her laughter dried up as if it never was. She needed a distraction, and though he was not as good at it as Michelangelo, he had to try. He couldn't stand the thought of her enduring in such an unhappy state for an entire day.

"So," he said, casually taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, "I take it drama was not one of the classes you excelled at in school."

She twisted in his direction, startled by his unexpected humor.

"Hey!" She protested. "I make a perfectly good damsel!"

Raph growled from his table a few feet away.

"See," she said with a small smile, "the monster agrees."

And so they passed the time, Raphael and Donatello playing off each other. Trying to divert her from the operation at hand until enough blood had been collected and modified to start the second half of the process.

Don checked and re-checked his samples before announcing they were ready. He handled her injured side gingerly as he inserted an I.V. feed into her forearm, above her sprained wrist and below the debilitating cut in her bicep. He wanted to monitor possible early healing accomplished by any remaining excess of Raph's sample in her veins.

"Now I really feel like _'The Bride of Frankenstein'_ ," she complained, holding both arms straight at her sides as the tubes coiled about her.

"Well, your intended _is_ green," Donnie said, as the transfusion began to flow. "And we might be able to style your hair into a lightning wig..."

He trailed off as every muscle in her body stiffened and the expression on her face became... strange. Her brow furrowed, her jaw tensed, and she swallowed hard. Her face went chalk white and her pupils dilated wildly.

"Morgan?" Don asked in concern as he reached to take her pulse, checking her vitals. "Is everything ok?"

Her heart was racing and her breathing sped. She didn't answer, and he exchanged a worried glance with his brother. Raphael sat up on his table.

"Sweetheart?" Raph asked swinging his legs over the side and reaching across to take her hand. "You alright?"

"Bubbles," she answered, squeezing his hand in a death grip.

"Bubbles?" Don repeated.

"Effervescence," she clarified. "Like fizz under my skin. The serum did that. The nasty stuff they used to inject me with, right before it began to hurt like hell."

She made a small sound like an animal trapped and waiting for its end. A whimper of fear in its most primal form. Donnie's heart clenched and his stomach turned. She trusted him to make this as painless as possible. He promised her it would be ok.

 _What if I was wrong in my calculations?_

His hand hovered over the abort button, ready to stop the procedure, but another explanation occurred to him and he hurried to her side instead.

"Don?" Raph said in a dangerous tone, but his brother was examining the fluid flowing in with his microscopic goggles.

"I think, I think everything is alright," Donatello said, blinking owlishly through his spectacles. "It's just the extra bit of Raph's cells, changing the blood that hasn't cycled through. Does it hurt?"

"Not yet," Morgan said through clenched teeth though she was clearly braced for pain.

"Ok, let's all take a deep breath and wait a few minutes," Donnie said. "Let me know the moment anything changes."

She did as he asked, trying to return her respiration to normal. Slowly she began to relax as the time ticked by and nothing more drastic occurred. Her heart rate slowed and her face resumed its natural color. Eventually, she graced them with a small smile.

"I'm sorry for freaking out on you. It's stupid, but I'm still so scared."

"Don't be sorry," Donatello said. "Being subjected to experimental medical procedures ranks right up there in things to be frightened of. But we're here for you, sweetie. I'm watching every step. I'll stop it if there's any issues."

"It's not just today," Morgan said with a sniffle. "It's, well, pretty much everything. Not you guys," she said, patting Raphael's hand in hers. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me. But... Charlie's out there, searching. He's never going to give up. Not till he has me in his hands again."

"Angel," Raphael said, low and intense. "I ain't gonna let that happen."

Her eyes filled with tears as her thoughts piled up.

"But the FBI and the Foot are involved as well. And probably whoever I was originally intended for. You can't fight the whole world."

"I can," he growled. "I will."

"Last time you were shot! What happens if next time is worse?"

She tugged her hand from his grip and pulled away.

"He's tougher than you think," Donnie said, touching her shoulder. "And he won't be fighting alone." She flinched away from him.

"You, Leo, Raphael. You've all been hurt trying to protect me."

She sobbed so hard they almost couldn't make out the words.

"I can't keep putting you at risk."

Raphael looked to Don with the most helpless expression he'd ever seen, and Donnie hid his own spasm of agony. He moved swiftly to Raph's table and removed the collection needle so his brother could go to her.

Raphael gathered Morgan into his arms, sat on her table, and pulled her into his lap. Glad now Don forced him to remove his gear and weapons before the procedure. Cradling her against him, he began to hum, a gentle rumble deep in his chest.

She went limp in his grasp, tears cascading down her cheeks as Raphael cupped her face and rocked back and forth. Don turned away, hiding his own feelings in his work as Raph murmured senseless nothings in her ear.

Eventually, she cried herself out, dropping into a restless slumber.

"I'm not going anywhere, love," Raph whispered, kissing the top of her head.

 _No_ , thought Donatello, _I won't let any of you slip away._

* * *

Morgan stirred as Raphael moved underneath her. One arm carefully supporting her head, one under her legs. He shifted off the table and strode so smoothly down the hall it felt like floating. The procedure must be over.

Groggily, she raised arms heavy with sleep and twined them around his neck.

Seconds later, he placed her on something soft and warm that smelled heavily of him and tried to disengage her grip. She whimpered, tightening her hold and pulling him closer.

"Sweetheart, you need to rest," he murmured, knowing she was only half aware.

"Stay," she pleaded. "I don't want to be alone."

"Oh angel, you never will be."

His lips brushed hers, a soft, tender kiss meant as reassurance.

She gasped, opening her mouth and stretching up for another, rougher, more meaningful connection. His hands slid under her back and wound through her hair. Supporting her, holding her to him as if afraid she might disappear.

She licked at his lips, sucking his lower in between hers and nipping slightly. His breathing sped and a moan escaped his throat. She shifted her grip to the knot of his mask and pulled him in again. Letting her tongue slip into his mouth, exploring deep. Savoring his taste, his scent, the way his arms tightened involuntarily around her.

Her desire for him, already powerful, lit like wildfire, surging from the embers of sleep to ten-foot flames in an instant. She didn't fight it, relaxing into the heat and letting it burn.

"Morgan," he moaned between kisses.

The sound of her name inflamed her further and she twisted, taking his balance so he fell into bed next to her. His arms tightened, clinging to her as he rolled to his shell. Eventually, she rested full length atop him. Her breasts pressed pleasantly against his plastron, her nipples hardening under the rough cloth of her shirt as she arched up against him.

* * *

The weight of her pressing on his chest... The warmth of her body, covering him from shoulder to knee... The hot wet caress of her mouth... Her hair brushing his cheeks...

It was overwhelming.

Yet he wanted more. The need to feel her bare skin drove him to reach for the front of her button down shirt as she sat up, straddling his center.

The tiny buttons fought with him and he let out a snarl of frustration. She answered with a throaty laugh, placing a hand over each of his and pulling sharply apart. Buttons sprang from their moorings and shot across the room, revealing her dark lacy bra.

He sat up as she knelt, settling in his lap, and slid the torn cloth from her shoulders with both hands. Letting them graze down her naked arms as he attacked her throat with kisses.

He found her pulse point as she trailed delicate fingers over his collarbone. He shivered under her hands, loving her gentle caress. Still amazed she found him, of all creatures, desireable.

Ever so delicately, he cupped one huge hand around the side of her neck and pulled her against his lips as he licked and sucked. She moaned and threw back her head as he ran his tongue up and down, covering her with warm, wet kisses.

She rose to her knees again, pressing her torso to him, and he shifted his attention to the two soft mounds now prominently displayed in front of his eyes. He reached for her, caressing her through the silky lace fabric. Kissing first the left, then the right, until the cloth was wet through. He dragged his hands over her shoulders, scraping away the straps and snapping the clasp at the back. He pulled until it all fell away and she laid bare before him.

With a cry, he threw an arm around her back and hauled her against him, mouth catching hers for another passionate kiss.

Her tongue slid over his and his mind spun. He'd spent many nights pleasing her, but it had never felt like this. This was give and take, a sharing of desire that left him breathless and wanting.

* * *

Morgan gripped his biceps hard, flexing both hands in a way she hadn't been able to in weeks, and wondered at the change. But his mouth was busy again, distracting her as his tongue swirled around each erect rosebud of a nipple. Sucking them in and biting lightly until she gasped.

Leaning down, she brushed her lips across his domed head, skimmed his mask and bent to lick and nip down his neck. He shuddered and moaned under her attentions, hands tightening their grip as they cupped each of her hips. She pushed back against his palms and shoved his shoulders to the mattress.

His hot gaze scorched across her face as he stared up at her. His muscles tensed in surprise at something he saw, but she couldn't care less. She was gripped in the throes of passion and nothing else mattered.

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her pants and slid them down over her hips, taking her panties with them. With the smooth move of a dancer, she leaned back, pointed her toes and stripped the stretchy material off.

In seconds, she was bare and Raphael's appreciative gaze caressed her from head to toe. Suddenly, she was self-conscious. She'd never been so wanton and exhibitionistic of her own free will.

"My God. You _are_ an angel," he breathed.

* * *

Raphael sat up violently, closing his arms around her slim waist until his hands locked on his own elbows. She arched against him and her hot flesh scraped over his plastron. He lost his breath with a gasp and a moan. Leaning close, she buried her face in his neck.

He inhaled. The scent of her hair, her skin, the musk of her desire, stirred something deep and primal inside him. He'd been struggling to keep himself contained, but now that was impossible. With a shuddering groan, he let his throbbing member drop, slipping out between them.

She felt him, pressed hard against the inside of her thigh and froze.

"Angel?" he whispered, worried he'd frightened her. "It's ok. You don't have to do this-"

Another white hot kiss cut him off and left his head spinning.

She drew back, rested her forehead on his and reached between her legs for him.

"Raphael," she panted in a voice rough with need, "I _want_ you."

Something exquisitely warm and wet touched his tip, and he almost lost his mind as her incredible body expanded to let him in. A tight corridor of muscle spasmed around him, and he choked. It was like nothing he'd ever known.

Heaven. It was paradise. He never wanted it to end.

Her soft bosom heaved in front of his eyes as she rose and fell, arching back as he supported her. The sound in his chest roared, numbing his senses to everything but her. Her moans drove him on. Her figure practically glowing in the dim light. Her scent spiraled about him in a vaporous cloud as sweat dampened her hair and ran down her sides. Her hands urged him to thrust higher, harder.

Tighter and tighter the muscles in his core spiraled until he thought he would surely burst. Morgan's breathing grew faster, her movements more frantic. She leaned in, close to his face and inhaled.

"I love you, Raphael," she whispered.

The words hit him like a blow.

Time stopped.

Lava and ice exploded in his veins and his awareness was swept up in hers. His need, her desire, were one. No telling where the first ended and the other began. They pulsed in perfect synchronization. One heartbeat. One breath. Balanced on the edge of a precipice.

Together, they soared.

Shockwaves took them and they clung, safe in one another as the world tumbled down around them.

* * *

Donatello sat at the small kitchen table with his coffee in hand, staring intently at an electronic copy of the Times. The words on the device blurred and sharpened in front of him by turns. He hadn't been able to sleep and the tension in his body kept him from focusing on what the article had to say. At last, he put it down in defeat and let his gaze drift around the room, regarding it critically as if seeing it for the first time.

It was homey. Small, and perhaps a bit battered and worn, but cozy. The cupboards were a warm buttery yellow. The fridge, one of those old retro models that only stood three-quarters of the height of the new ones, featured a curved front and a bright teal color that Michelangelo had chosen. The table was large enough to accommodate all of them and the mismatched chairs were reflections of their owners personalities.

Everything in the room was scrupulously clean, his brother wouldn't have it any other way. And each item was appreciated, had been hard won. Discovered in the streets, sewers, or junkyards and recovered or repurposed as best it could be to serve _their_ family.

One or two new additions adorned the counter. The shiny black coffee maker and an orange toaster had been gifts from the few human friends they allowed in their lives. Symbols of affection used every day.

In fact, the lair was full of such symbolism. Don wondered why he never considered it before. He lost himself in it now. Anything to avoid thinking about the young woman under their roof and the emotional consequences of her now being irrevocably tied to his brother.

Movement caught his eye from the hall and he tensed, not sure he was ready to face the happy couple, but a flash of orange and green clarified the presence almost immediately.

"Mornin' Donnie!"

Mikey waltzed into the kitchen with a chipper grin and began hauling out pots, pans, and plates, prepared to create a sublime breakfast.

He glided around his domain, collecting everything with ease and proceeded to cook, combining ingredients until a veritable buffet of breakfasty goodness was arrayed on the counter in front of him.

"We expecting a battalion?" Don asked, eyeing the huge amount of effort Michelangelo was putting into the relatively simple meal.

"We're celebrating, duh!" Mikey replied.

"Celebrating?" Donnie raised a brow.

"Celebrating?"

The second inquiry came from a tired Leonardo, who stumbled in from the doorway. Since the standoff in the outer tunnel four days ago, the leader had been taking it on himself to keep a night watch in the lair. Dragging himself through morning training, then trying to catch up on rest in the afternoon.

Donnie frowned at the circles under his brother's eyes and made a mental note to talk to Mikey later about sharing the burden. Michelangelo made an exasperated noise at their obvious confusion, but before he could add anything, Master Splinter entered and they all instinctively straightened.

"Yes," the old rat said, smiling warmly. "I believe a celebration _is_ in order. For our newest family member is, at last, whole again."

He stood aside, making room for Raphael and Morgan to join the group. Donatello couldn't help but stare. One night. One single night in the arms of his brother and all her horrible injuries were gone. Erased as if they never existed.

She felt his gaze, raised her face and smiled tentatively in his direction as Raphael wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulders and leaned in to kiss the top of her head.

Donnie waited, eyes wide, for the sting of jealousy, the flare of anger, the need to flee, or any one of a dozen painful emotions to seize him at the sight.

All he felt was peace, the warmth of her smile, and relief she was healed.

 _Amazing!_

He could still feel the deep pool of emotion inside. Love had not abandoned him, but desire had. He still cherished her. Would leap in front of a bullet for her. But that he would do for any of his family.

Abruptly he realized how successful he'd been at distracting himself from obsessive thoughts of her all morning. How he'd actually contemplated the clan as a whole and found himself concerned over Leonardo's state of health instead. Able to consider other work and pursue other ideas.

He laughed, his warm baritone filling the room with a joyous expression of freedom. He whooped, rose from the table and rushed to her. Lifted her by the waist over his head and spun her around in glee, staring into her laughing eyes.

He set her on the floor and turned, startling his hot-headed brother with the biggest bear hug he could summon.

"That," he said with a huge smile, " _is_ something to celebrate."


	34. Not what I imagined

**Not what I imagined**

 _There's something almost magical about being completely well._

Morgan smiled at her thoughts, for the method of her healing _was_ magic, or at least science far enough beyond the purview of humanity to be considered so. She flexed her hand, wrist, and shoulder with wonder. An entire week had passed since her miraculous recovery and she still felt stunned. Nothing hurt any longer.

 _It's not beyond Donatello's understanding, though._

The genius had been pouring over the recordings of the blood transformation with fascination. If anyone could figure out how the process worked, he could. But at the moment, she had another little challenge she was hoping he might accept.

She smiled indulgently and cocked her head to place the occupants of the house as she emerged from the bedroom and came down the stairs.

Leonardo and Michelangelo were sparring in the dojo. Mikey was easy to locate, his taunting and the whirl of his nunchucks gave him away. Leo was silent, but the metallic clash of steel on wood told her they were working with 'live' weapons today.

Master Splinter sat to one side, observing. He'd taken to leaving his aural shields down so she could locate him in the lair at will. His serene acceptance of her attachment to his son and the adjustment of his customary patterns to make her more comfortable filled her with gratitude.

The clink of the coffee pot placed Donatello. And her love? He still snored in the room she just left. She and Raphael were sharing his bedroom. His bed was larger than her little pallet in the meditation area and since neither of them wished to be apart it wasn't logical to maintain two separate places for sleep.

Besides, it hadn't seemed fair to force Leonardo out of the one room where he could find some peace. The leader's responsibilities weighed on him heavily and he deserved an escape. A place to center himself.

She headed for the kitchen, adroitly avoiding the furniture in the living room. Stepping around Michelangelo's skateboard and Donatello's latest pile of books with a tiny hop-skip, she paused to straighten a lamp pushed too near the edge of the end table, probably during one of Raphael and Mikey's scuffles.

Eyes skimmed across her, observing her little dance, and she flushed. Splinter was studying her again through the open door of the dojo. He believed her movements to be the ultimate example of something he referred to as 'Kan'. A Japanese term for a specific type of intuition that lies deep within the soul. When fully developed, one supposedly gained unlimited knowledge of their surroundings, like a kind of sixth sense.

 _Splinter has been unlocking its mysteries all his life._

She turned toward him and smiled, nodding politely. She found his fascination with the phenomenon a little unsettling. After all, this was how she lived her way life. It didn't seem like some sensation out of legend.

 _But I am part myth._

It sounded odd, even in her head, to identify herself as something other than human, but she needed to embrace her heritage. For Splinter believed there was a possibility she had more latent talents than she knew. This evening, they were to work together exploring the psychic abilities of her race.

Whenever she considered it, butterflies took flight in her stomach.

 _This is so not what I imagined my life would be like. A few short weeks ago I was a human fugitive, terrified and alone. Huh. Feels like ages since I followed April underground._

Thinking of April put a spring in her step. She wanted to speak with the fun-loving redhead, but first she had to consult with their local genius and computer hacker. She bounded to where Donnie stood waiting for her with a mug of piping hot coffee. He smiled as she entered and his whole aura shifted in a way which meant he was truly happy.

Everybody's presence possessed a unique base signature, but powerful emotion changed her impression of their 'glow'. Morgan used the term though she herself had never perceived light, yet she felt it was the best one to describe her awareness of these aural variations. Of course, she had to spend time with a person to map individual deviations to the appropriate emotions, but it was worth the effort.

Morgan greeted him with a hug and took the mug, sitting at the large kitchen table. He joined her, settling into his own morning routine of catching up on current events via his tablet.

"Donnie," she touched his hand, "I need some help."

He looked up concerned, aura flickering.

"What's wrong sweetie? You feeling ok?"

She smiled to allay his worry.

"Fine, just fine. Fantastic actually, if a little under provisioned."

She ran her hand over the top she was wearing, a soft short sleeved tee, under an oversized fleece hoodie. That desperate night she'd shoved clothes into a bag, she hadn't known she was leaving her apartment forever.

She only had four shirts.

 _Three_.

She grimaced as she remembered the poor button down no longer closed. Two pairs of pants and a single pair of running shoes completed her wardrobe. It was a good thing they had a washing machine or she'd have run out clothes a while ago.

"I need to resupply," she admitted, as his eyes followed the path of her hands.

"Of course. I should have realized," Don said. "Let me talk to Leo. I'm sure we can dig up some cash. At least enough to get you a few more warm layers."

Morgan shook her head.

"I can't take your money, Donnie. I've already abused your hospitality. It's bad enough I'm eating your food. And I am going to find a way to replace all the medical stuff you used on me. April's looking into the cost of supplies."

"Don't worry about that, sweetie," he said. "We take care of our own."

"It's time I contributed to the effort," she countered. "I have some savings from before... well before Charlie. It's not a lot, a couple thousand dollars max, so he never tried to take it. The issue is accessing it. I have a sneaking suspicion the FBI have frozen my funds, or put a watch on the account. I'm hoping you might be persuaded do something about that."

Donnie's aura warmed and she knew he was up for the task.

"Sounds like a challenge," he said. "I'll do it on one condition."

"What's that?"

"Sit in on training today and cheer for me? I have a feeling I'll need the support."

"Against who?"

Donatello smiled.

"Your hot-head, of course!"

* * *

After breakfast, Morgan entered their practice area with reverence, selecting a cushion and settling into what she hoped was an out of the way spot. Though she had lived here several weeks, this was the first time she had been invited to witness their training.

The dojo was a special place for them. A chamber dedicated solely to the refinement and perfection of their craft. Their very lives, and hers depended on what they learned here.

 _It's an honor to be allowed in._

The expansive room was divided into several separate spaces, each with a defined purpose. The center, cleared of all obstacles, was coated in an even layer of some sort of grass or reed mats. Her nose wasn't sure which, but their distinct dry yet earthy scent distinguished them from the flooring in the rest of the house. This must be where they sparred.

A change in temperature, the slightest warmth, turned her head to the right. Raised high on the wall, was a small shrine surrounded with candles and burning incense. Astoundingly, she perceived a strange aural reflection around it. Not quite life, yet not entirely inanimate either.

Dedicated to those who had gone before, the narrow alter exuded a form of rich spiritual energy. She cocked her head and listened closely. The deep vibrations were a request, an entreaty for warriors of the past to lend their strength and wisdom to whatever proceedings occurred before them.

A scent on the breeze drew her attention to the left. On this side, several smaller areas were divided from the main studio by screens. Some were empty, reserved for independent study while others were filled with the odor of weaponry.

She inhaled deeply. Metal, oil, leather, wood, and the spicy fragrance of incense spoke to her, calling to mind each of their distinct auras.

 _This room embodies their very essence._

A quiver of excitement passed through her. Today she would experience the abilities of her new family first hand. For them, this practice was an everyday occurrence, but attending made Morgan nervous for reasons she didn't understand.

 _It's not like they're expecting me to step into the ring._

Still, she fidgeted as Raphael and Donatello warmed up, preparing to square off on the mat in front of her. She knew they were skilled. April's confidence in their abilities and her own multiple rescues proved it. But she hadn't been in any sort of position before to appreciate them in action.

She didn't realize just how anxious she was though until Michelangelo flopped bonelessly down next to her and she jumped with a squeak.

"Woah, sis," he said hiding a smirk. "Time to switch to decaf, yeah?"

He ruffled her hair and she made a noise of frustration.

"Mikey," she said, slapping playfully at him, "Don't anger the beast. It's hard enough to get it to behave once a day." She ran her fingers through her curls, patting them back into place.

 _Something else I need, real shampoo. And a way to get this frizz under control._

She blinked at the tenor of her thoughts. First clothes, now her hair. She hadn't worried about her appearance in a long time. New Year's Eve was the last occasion she dressed up for and that had been an act of desperation which ended in disaster. Since then she had been consumed with other matters. Mainly a mixture of terror and wonder.

 _Life. Guess I'm finally getting back to it, or at least used to the unexplainable._

However, now was not the time to consider such trifles for Raphael was taking the floor.

Intimately familiar with the shape of his body, Morgan intuitively understood how he moved. She knew the grace of his muscles shifting, the way the air shivered around him.

It made her skin tingle and her palms sweat.

But what she sensed as he approached now was different. A kind of controlled intensity radiated from him. Waves of concentration lapped at her as he took his starting position and stilled.

She gasped as she lost awareness of his mass and his physical form ceased to exist to her senses. Alarmed, despite the fact his aura still stood plainly in front of her, she thrust herself to her feet.

"Raphael?"

His name burst from her lips in a fierce demand, tinted with fear.

"Still here, love," came an answering whisper.

Morgan cocked her head left, then right, but the sound emanated from every direction and none. She couldn't pinpoint his location with her ears.

"What's going on?" She asked in a brittle voice.

"Ninjutsu, my child," Master Splinter answered, seating himself next to her. "Among other things, it is the art of invisibility."

He took her hand and gently coaxed her back to her seat. Mikey wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed a comforting side hug.

"Don't worry, babe," he said. "This is gonna be awesome."

Donnie moved to the edge of the mat, becoming intangible before he even reached the center, but his aura did not pause. Tracking their essence was the only way she could tell which brother was where and what they were doing.

In the next ten minutes, a dance more exquisite than any ballet was performed before her.

Accented by the percussion of their weapons, each presence flared as they clashed and disengaged; dimming than burning bright as the struggle turned first in one direction than the other.

Incredible and terrifying all at once, the competition set Morgan's pulse racing. Her breathing elevated as the two struck in rapid fire succession. Pressure built behind her forehead as their contest increased in intensity and, in between one gasping breath and another, everything changed.

Morgan remained seated, yet became a part of the dance. She could feel her muscles bunching, the impact of the blows, the speed of the motions. Memories not her own flooded her. Subconscious, they underlaid the battle, giving meaning and context to each motion.

 _Attack. Deflect. Roll. Strike. Counter. Redirect. Evade. Capture. Throw._

She flowed reflexively with them through the paces, every action leading inexorably into the ensuing one. Somehow, she had become one with her love, but he seemed oblivious to her internal presence, focusing with fierce concentration on the opponent in front of him.

Raphael was amazing, way past expert - verging on mastery. But flaws still existed in his form, cracks in his armor. With sudden clarity, she realized _she_ was one of those deadly imperfections.

His brother knew it as well.

Donatello turned a narrowed gaze in her direction. With her new knowledge, it wasn't hard to infer his intentions from the slightly sorrowful look. She closed her eyes, bracing for what he was about to do.

He feinted toward the group.

Morgan sat still as a statue while his weapon slipped past her face in a sharp jab, so close the breeze from the fast moving staff caressed her cheek.

Raphael's shock as he lost his concentration rocked her to the core and he stumbled.

Donnie drew back, using his return momentum to strike Raph hard across the shoulder, knocking him to the mat. The follow through shot he aimed again at Morgan.

Raphael exploded.

Morgan's consciousness rushed back into her own body, retreating from the rage. Reeling, disoriented, she swayed as Raphael's bulk appeared directly in front of her, swatting the offending weapon away with such force Donnie's stance faltered.

Precision and form abandoned, Raphael barreled into his brother, grappling him around the waist. In seconds, the fight was over. Raph straddled Don's prone body, his massive weight pinning the lighter turtle. The gleaming tip of his sai pressed tightly against his brother's windpipe.

Donnie's aura dimmed as he froze under the blade.

"Yamete!" Splinter shouted as Mikey scrambled to his feet to intervene.

Morgan didn't stop to think, she just reacted. Launching herself toward them, she moved far faster than a human should. In a flash, she fell to her knees next to the fallen Donatello and snaked an arm around his neck, insinuating her flesh between him and the lethal dagger.

The point slid along the outside of her forearm but didn't draw blood for Raphael immediately pulled back and dropped the offending weapon, breathing hard. His wide anxious eyes raked her face, searching for damage.

"I'm fine, love," she promised leaning up and bracing herself over Donnie's plastron so she could reach her beloved's face. She laid a comforting palm on his cheek. "It was only a distraction. He didn't hit me."

Shakily, he covered her hand with his own, but Mikey arrived and snagged his elbow, dragging him off his brother and away to cool off.

"You ok?" Morgan asked Donnie as she leaned back out of his way. He shuddered as he sat up.

"I- I'll be alright. I should have known better. That was dumb."

"Dumb?" Raph spun from his pacing a few feet away and pointed his remaining sai at his brother with a shaking fist. "It was suicidal!"

Don winced at his brother's anger.

"No," Splinter said. "It was a lesson... for all of us. Raphael, your opponent detected a weakness and exploited it. Your enemies will do the same. But you cannot afford to let her jeopardy break your concentration. Had Donatello not been your only adversary, your loss of form may have led to catastrophe."

"Sensei! There's no way... I can't let such a threat pass!"

"My son, everyone is fragile when their loved ones are in peril. _You_ must learn to overcome it," the rat said. He turned to Don, fur bristling along his jaw. "But, I also do not care for unanticipated threats to my children. Miss Morgan could not see your weapon, Donatello, nor your intent. If she had shifted, even an inch, the damage would have been formidable."

"I knew what he was doing."

Splinter's gaze snapped to Morgan, piercing her where she still knelt on the mat, face tilted his way.

"How?"

The sharp word wasn't a question, but a demand. One expecting an instant reply. Morgan swallowed hard.

"I'm not sure I can explain. I somehow _merged_ with Raphael during the bout and absorbed the strategy. When Donnie glanced in my direction," she shrugged, "I understood what he was going to do."

"Hmmm..."

Splinter rubbed his whiskers, then shifted his weight without warning. His walking stick arced over his head in a speedy, powerful attack.

Morgan countered.

Snatching up the discarded sai by her side, she caught the old rat's improvised weapon between the tines and twisted it out of the way. Her wrist bent under the assault and she dropped the dagger, but she diverted the blow.

She escaped by rolling swiftly in Raphael's direction, tucking her shoulder and protecting her head. He howled and leapt over her, inserting himself between her and the danger.

"Good," Splinter grunted, waving at his son to stand down. "You _have_ grasped the concepts. We will make room in the morning schedule for Leonardo to teach you further defensive and strengthening techniques."

"Why Leo?" Raphael snapped, still smoldering over not one, but two unexpected attacks on his mate. "Why not me? Or Don?"

His father raised a brow as if the reasons should be obvious.

"You will be... distracted," Splinter said. "Either by her physical attributes or possible injuries. Donatello may assist, but Leonardo has mastered his art and himself. He can be counted on to cover the necessities with the appropriate force."

"In other words, Leo isn't afraid to hit a girl," Mikey said.

"No," a cool voice said behind Morgan as a strong hand reached down to draw her to her feet. "It means I'm not going to strike anyone who isn't prepared for it." The leader smiled. "At least, not during practice."

"Also," their master said, ignoring the byplay, "such lessons will allow Raphael some experience in keeping his form under duress. We will begin now. Miss Morgan- please follow Leonardo's instruction."

She nodded and Leo conducted her to the side as the others resumed their practice. Raphael's concerned gaze followed her every step and Splinter corrected him in a gruff voice.

"Where were you?" She asked. "I didn't sense you anywhere."

Leonardo stopped to move one of the screens, creating their own little space in the corner.

"Watching," was his cryptic reply.

He pressed her to sit in front of him, settled himself facing her, and grinned. A true, almost boyish smile which lightened his aura immensely.

"Sensei's been teaching me to cloud my personal emanations. Maybe you can help me practice, since you see auras so precisely?"

"Of course!" She said, happy there was something she could assist _him_ with for a change.

"So," she said, blowing out a nervous breath. "What specifically are we going to be doing?"

"Nothing fancy," Leo said with calm reassurance. "Simple practice. Falling, rolling, and basic self-defence. Some calisthenics for strength."

She nodded again, this time with more confidence.

"That much I can do. I'm never going to be a ninja though," she cautioned.

"Don't worry."

Leo's gaze softened and his hand brushed her face, tracing her cheekbone lightly where Donnie's weapon skimmed by. The caress was so delicate and he drew back so fast, she was unsure for a moment if he truly instigated such a tender gesture.

"That's what you have us for."

* * *

Morgan slumped down on the couch in the living room with a deep sigh of relief, glad the training session was over.

 _I can't believe I agreed to do this every day._

Her body wasn't damaged. Not exactly. She'd been through enough pain to know injury from ache. But she was sore. Knowing the moves Leonardo was asking her to perform turned out to be vastly different from repeatedly enacting said motions. In short order, she realized she wasn't in as good a shape as she thought she was.

 _Being well and being fit are two wholly separate things!_

But, the workouts could only get better from here, she figured. And she did need to practice. She stifled a groan of discomfort as Michelangelo dashed into the room and vaulted over the sofa, jostling her with a bounce.

"That was totally awesome, sis!" he crowed. "You moved so fast in there! And I bet Donnie-boy is thankin' his lucky stars you did."

In fact, Donatello pulled her aside as they were leaving the dojo and promised her something special as a thank you. She'd just laughed and kissed his cheek.

"I'm not sure drawing Splinter's attention was such a good idea," she said with a tired frown. "It's only noon and I'm beat."

"Aw... sis. What hurts?"

"Everything," she complained.

"Turn around."

"What?"

"Turn, you know, sideways. Give me your back."

She raised a brow at him, but pushed against the cushions and shifted until one leg rested crosswise on the sofa. Gentle hands gathered her hair, pulling it into a loose ponytail up on her head then twisting the strands expertly into a bun. Her mouth dropped open as he secured it.

"How did you learn to do that?"

"April," he said with a shrug.

Then his talented fingers walked their way down her spine and she became incapable of speech. Working over her back and shoulders thoroughly, he loosened tight muscles and dug into the knots. Somehow he ferreted out where each pain was hiding and applied just enough pressure to alleviate it.

"You have about a thousand years to stop that," she said and moaned her bliss as his thumbs probed a particularly sore spot on her lower back.

Mikey chuckled darkly and she tried to swallow any additional sounds so as not to draw Raphael's ire down on his little brother's head. Probably seeing her get a massage would be ok, but if he heard her uttering such noises without him, all bets were off on his reaction.

When he had her loosened up, Mikey took her to the floor, leading her through a round of assisted stretching. He pulled her arms straight up, backward, across her chest and eventually did a seated split across from her, bracing her feet with his and drawing on her hands to elongate her back.

"Wow," she said, rolling her shoulders when he released her, "that was amazing."

"S'nothin'," Mikey said with a smile. "I don't think the others stretch enough. I'll remind Leo. He should be taking you through this sort of thing right after you finish. That way your muscles won't lock up."

She gave a little squeal of joy, then dove across the open space between them to give him a hug.

"Thanks, big brother!" She whispered.

She darted away with renewed energy, leaving him stunned as she called, "I've got to see if Donnie broke into my bank. See ya later!"

* * *

Donatello had not, yet, gotten to her money, but he did have a nice surprise waiting when she wove through the cluttered confines of his lab to the work area at the back.

As she approached, he slid something over the table. She stopped the unusual device, curiously picking it up and running her hands over the back with a confused expression. It felt like a turtle shell sized to the palm of her hand. The carapace was curved with hexagonal scutes similar to their own, but it was made of metal and plastic. It had to be some kind of electronic.

Donatello came around behind her, wrapped a hand over hers, and showed her where to squeeze the sides. With a quiet hum, the dome opened in quadrants, exposing a screen and a keyboard.

"Is this a cell phone?" She asked in wonder.

"In a manner of speaking," Don said. "This is a Shell-Cell. A communication device that replicates a phone's operation, but uses our private network and can't be tracked by anyone outside. It has biometric security so only you, or one of us, can open it.

Yours is special. I modified the operating system to add all the accessibility features you're used to from commercial phones, made the screen smaller and added a full keyboard so you can text properly. The speaker even lifts out to become an ear bud, so you can use text- to-speech without others listening in."

Morgan's mouth was agape. She couldn't believe all the trouble he'd gone to.

"I don't know what to say," she said. "I don't have anyone to call to right now, but-"

"I was thinking April," Donnie cut in. "You can chat with her, either in person or text without worrying about others discovering you. I'm sure there are some things you'd rather discuss only with her. You know, 'girl talk.'"

Morgan nodded dumbly.

"And, after I siphon off your money to a safe account," Don continued, "you can shop online and send the clothes or whatever to her house. She can bring them by or we'll pick them up."

Tears welled up in her eyes.

"With this, you're reconnected with the world. And you'll always be able to contact us when we're out. If you're frightened while we're on patrol, or if you happen to be out yourself and just need to reach us."

He paused, noticing the wet trails running down her cheeks.

"Hey, don't cry, sweetie. This was supposed to be a happy thing!"

He wrapped an arm around her, confused, and hugged her. She laid her head on his shoulder.

"It is!" She said through her tears. "It's- I, I just don't know how I'd get through this without you. I haven't even dreamed about a normal life in so long... And here you are handing it back to me."

His sad laugh was so gentle her head didn't even shake where it rested. He swayed back and forth, rocking her in place.

"I don't know how 'normal' your life can be tied to a bunch of mutated turtles. But you will have one. A life I mean. I won't let you stay trapped in limbo forever. You're my friend. More than that, you're my sister."

His aura bloomed rich and dark as he leaned down to kiss her hair and she had an epiphany. First Leo, then Mikey, now Donnie. Each of them sought her company and treated her with respect and humanity. Suddenly she was crying for a different reason. She was more than simply safe in their lair.

 _I'm wanted. After years of being tortured and alone..._

Donnie stroked her head as her grateful tears ran down his plastron.

"We'll set you free. No matter what it takes."

* * *

Evening fell and Raphael, Morgan, and Master Splinter took their seats in the meditation room with varying levels of excitement and trepidation. The plan was to determine the best method of psychic training, but Splinter decided on consulting Brenellean first. This was unknown territory and having some sort of guide would be preferable to experimenting alone.

But Morgan wasn't certain about trying out the speaking stone. None of them were sure how it was supposed to work.

 _Will all of us be able to hear? Is it a communication tool like a phone?_

She hoped it wasn't some kind of emergency alarm. She didn't want him rushing to her aid thinking she was hurt. Or pulling her into the shadow world where Raphael couldn't follow. She still didn't altogether trust the man.

Scooting closer to Raphael made her feel more secure and he wrapped a comforting arm around her. He was armed and he'd bested Brenellean once before. Together, he and Splinter could keep the Feyian from committing kidnapping or doing anything else untoward.

"How do you think this works?" She asked, opening her palm to display the stone.

"Seems simple enough," Raphael said with a shrug. "I'd approach it as a call until we know different. Ya know, ask if this is a good time ta talk."

"Whenever you're ready, my child, clear your mind and think what you wish to say," Splinter said. "Speak aloud if that is easier. You need not 'shout' or attempt to reach out. He knows you are a novice so using this stone as a focus should magnify your request to the proper levels."

Trembling, Morgan closed her fingers around the smooth rock and concentrated on the strange Feyian man. It gradually warmed in her hand.

"Brenellean?" She asked aloud.

Raphael and Splinter studied her face, searching for signs of contact. A minute went by, then another. She began to feel silly sitting with her arm outstretched.

 _:Maur? Is everything ok?:_

She jerked as the words brushed against her consciousness and Raphael tightened his grasp. It wasn't like before when the Feyian stood in front of her. This call came from a great distance away, echoing softly.

"Can you hear that?" She asked the others.

"No," they said together.

 _:I am receiving you, little one. Are you alright?_ :

"Fine. I'm fine. I-" she stuttered a bit, "I was wondering if you had time to talk? I have some questions, but they can wait if now's not good."

His response was unexpectedly different from the first. Nearby and full of emotion, it wasn't so much that he spoke, as depicted what he wanted to say.

 _Her aura drowned in adoration. The sound of her voice mixed with longing and an infinite stretch of silence. A place held dear overlaid with heat. The demanding urgency of an emergency combined with stillness, attention, and understanding._

She gasped as these intense sensations translated themselves into a complete whole within her, attached to a meaning she actually understood.

 _:Maur. I haven't heard thy sweet voice in too many years. The house could be burning down and I would stop to listen.:_

"That's... different," she said aloud, shaken. "I think, for now, I'd prefer you stick to the first. And is there any way I can include others in our conversation? I'm not alone in my questions."

Wariness and wry agreement flavored his tone as he responded in the original echoing band of simple words.

 _:Perhaps it is best. However, such communication is less... satisfying. Who stands beside you? Are they worthy of your trust?:_

"My," she hesitated for a second then committed to the word, "Match and his father. I trust them with my life."

 _:Father? Curious. I did not sense him before. In fact, I do not perceive him now, though Raphael is clearly present.:_

The last was said so dryly Morgan fought to hold back a laugh. Raphael's aura was riled. He didn't like being left out of the conversation. It seemed every time he and Brenellean were fated to speak, one or the other was upset.

As for Splinter, he was holding all his shields close. If they hadn't been touching, foot to paw, she wouldn't be aware of him either.

"He is here," Morgan said. "He is... talented."

 _:Psychically?:_

This idea intrigued the Feyian.

"Maybe. I think. I really don't know much about any of this. That's one of my questions. Can I include them somehow?"

 _:As you wish. Have them grasp the stone as well.:_

She nudged Raphael with her elbow and tilted her face to Splinter.

"Cover my hand," she said. "Brenellean says you should be able to listen."

Raphael wrapped his hand under hers, lending support to her tiring bicep and his sensei rested a featherweight paw on the top of her fist. Tension built behind her eyes but rapidly faded with a weird feeling of expansion.

"You there, Trickster?" Raphael asked with a rumble.

 _:I am.:_

"As am I," Splinter said.

If Brenellean's response to Raphael was curt, his reply to Splinter was anything but.

 _:Greetings to you, Father of my sibling's Match, Kin of my kin. Knowing your mind is an honor.:_

His welcome had the sound of ritual and there was a long pause as Morgan pursed her lips, wondering what to do now. Since she didn't know the proper response she decided to plow ahead and ask her questions though she wasn't exactly sure what to ask.

"Is this ok? To contact you, I mean. Or should I reserve it for emergencies?" She asked. She wouldn't mind speaking to him more often. It might even be fun if he could be trusted.

 _:Anytime you wish, little one. If I am able, I will answer.:_

"Can others intercept this communication?" Splinter asked.

 _:Possibly, but they would have to be bloodkin to accomplish such a task. The other form I demonstrated is untraceable but limited. Only Mauriagonna may hear it.:_

"Why?" Raphael asked in suspicion.

 _:Twas the way I spoke in her mind when she was born,: Brenellean said. :There is no deeper, more personal bond.:_

"Understood," Splinter said. "With your help, I would like to embark on an exploration of Miss Morgan's mental powers."

 _:Why?:_

It was the Feyian's turn to sound suspicious.

"Her enemies are many. Though we strive to protect her, she should be armed with whatever weapons we can provide," Splinter answered. "The battle ahead of us will be long and she has need of many defenses."

There was silence so long, Morgan was concerned they might have lost contact.

 _:Brenna?:_

She thought his nickname tentatively, not sure if by not speaking aloud the others would overhear. Instantly, she was caught up in the deep emotional connection. His whispering an intense reverberation in her mind, her heart.

 _:Maur. I would do anything for thee. Tear the mountains from the Earth, rip the stars from the sky. But this will be difficult even were I there in person to teach thee._

 _I have no measure of thine inheritance. Thy mind is a closed bramble hedge prickled with thorns. I cannot see below the surface. I am wont to tell you how to proceed, but I am unsure. Our littles are immersed in such knowledge from birth, raised to embrace each other's thoughts, but thou art lacking even the language to grasp the concepts.:_

Morgan sighed. Well, it had been worth a try.

"What did he say?" Raphael asked.

"He wants to help, but he doesn't know how much I can learn or understand. And he can't see far enough into my mind to be able to tell."

"Brenellean," Splinter said, "I would converse with you further on this subject as I can see what you cannot. Will you consent to this? Will the stone function without Miss Morgan present?"

The Feyian dropped back into the open conversation as if he had never left and Morgan found her head spinning as she tried to keep up with who could understand what.

 _:It will though I would prefer she kept it close.:_

"I will only borrow it for a short time, when she is safe at home and well guarded," Splinter offered.

 _:So be it.:_

All at once, Morgan felt exhausted. Her strength was giving out and she slumped, leaning wearily on Raphael.

 _:You are fatigued. Such communication is draining, little one. Even with a stone. Have a care for the signs and release it now.:_

She nodded, too tired to form proper words and dropped the rock into Splinter's open palm. Raphael gathered her up in his arms and she leaned on his chest, resting her head on his shoulder as he prepared to take her to bed. It had been a very long day.

 _:Good night, Brenna.:_

She wished sleepily, not really expecting an answer for she already released the focus stone.

:Sleep well, little one,: the profound whisper echoed in her soul. _:May thy mate and family guard thee fiercely, for he is right. Thou art precious and divine.:_

Warmth filled her at his response and her tired mind caught and fixated on a single word of his reply.

 _Family. I have a family._

She was no longer alone. She had a devoted partner; three older brothers; a new father; and a magical guardian. And each one of them loved her for herself.

 _No, this is not what I imagined my life would be like at all._

Morgan thought as she drifted from consciousness in Raphael's protective embrace.

 _It's so much better..._


	35. Betrayal

Donatello entered the dojo and took Splinter aside.

"I need to speak with Leonardo," he said in a low tone.

Leo's head tilted slightly at the sound of his name, but he didn't remove his focus, or his gaze, from the young woman practicing balancing katas in front of him. Obviously, Don hoped to keep Morgan out of whatever bothered him, but with her acute hearing, there wasn't much chance of that.

Still, if she was listening, she gave no sign. Eyes closed, she concentrated on holding a particularly difficult pose. His hands rested lightly on her hips- just in case she overbalanced- but she really didn't need him. She held the position with grace.

She made it look easy though he knew it was anything but. Under his palms, he could feel her muscles straining, burning with the effort of holding so still. But her strength and agility were amazing, her training coming along at a rapid pace.

Weeks had passed and he found he enjoyed every moment of her company, both inside the dojo and out. Their time together drew them closer and, in a way he never anticipated, Leonardo had become extremely fond of the pretty little brunette for her own sake. She possessed a sly wit which often took him by surprise, a talent for coaxing laughter when she felt he was too serious, and a unique vantage point on the world.

He watched with pride as Morgan blossomed under the family's continuing affection, more protective of her now than ever before. He didn't want her upset needlessly, so when Donatello continued speaking despite Splinter's warning look, he frowned.

"I'm afraid there's a problem," Donnie's said, shooting them a nervous glance. "I've gathered the others, but it's urgent and I'd rather go over it only once."

Leo suppressed a sigh. It seemed their respite was over. He just hoped whatever it was didn't turn out to be too dire.

"And... relax," he said to Morgan, withdrawing his hands as she stepped down off the half sphere she'd been practicing on.

"Good job. That was the last one for today. You're really making progress."

"Thanks." She flashed him a grin. "I'm going to hit the shower then we can work on your stuff. You're getting pretty good at masking your aura, but it's still visible around the edges and I learned a new technique from Bren I think might help."

He returned the smile, touched by her eagerness to give back to the family. Little did she know she'd already given them the most precious gift.

"I'll have to take a raincheck," he said, trying to let her down gently. "Donnie has something to discuss and I need to run some plans by the guys. Its been a few weeks since we went on patrol and it's time we get back out there."

He phrased it as delicately as he could, but Morgan was no fool. Certainly, they would be seeking further information on those who threatened her, the Foot... and Charlie. It would be dangerous and she knew it. He read it in the tense expression on her face, the guarded look in her eye.

She decided to let it pass, perhaps realizing they would go anyway, despite her objections. Instead of a protest, she raised up on tiptoe, squeezed his bicep gently with both hands and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

"Just be careful," she whispered as she slipped out of the dojo.

* * *

"Ok, what's so urgent Donnie?" Leo asked as they strode briskly through the door of his brother's lab. The others were already gathered at the back and solemn expressions marked every face.

"It's the number," Michelangelo said as they joined the group. "The caller ID we brought back from April's phone. Don traced it."

"Actually, it came from one of the disposable cells Morgan used as part of her government protection," the genius said. "Karai found some way to bounce her signal off it, but the device isn't the issue."

"Enlighten me," Leonardo said, mouth tightening into a grim line. He didn't like the tense feeling surrounding the situation. His intuition said this was going to be bad. Very bad.

"I hacked the voicemail," Donnie said. "There's a message on it for Morgan from Martin. He left it a few days after the hospital incident, so it's several weeks old, but he must have thought she might still have access to it."

"What did he say?" Leo asked.

From Don's expression, it wasn't a typical law enforcement type enticement to reveal herself with promises of safety. A sinking feeling began deep in his stomach.

"Her best friend, Samantha, is being held hostage," Donatello said.

Leonardo blinked and relaxed a little, that wasn't as bad as he thought.

"Well, I guess it's better than the alternative," he said. "Morgan feared she was dead."

Donnie shook his head, his face pale.

"It's not, better I mean. The bastards are sending pieces of her back to the FBI every few days until Morgan agrees to submit."

"Pieces?" Mikey asked in a sick voice.

"Body parts," Raphael said with his usual bluntness.

Leonardo closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, trying to calm the intense fury flaring up inside. Morgan's arrival had sparked more anger than he'd ever had to deal with before. So much, he'd begun to sympathize with Raph.

In the beginning, he'd been upset for his brother's sake, now it was solely for hers.

The kind-hearted, loving girl had opened his eyes and carved a special place in his heart during her stay. She fit into their family perfectly, the missing puzzle piece which made the whole unit stronger. She offered a future beyond the end of their vendetta against the Shredder. They needed her.

 _She is our light leading out of the endless darkness._

Moreover, Morgan needed them in return. With their support, she was finally making strides toward mental recovery, perhaps even happiness. She no longer suffered such crushing nightmares and her attacks of post-traumatic stress had decreased.

But this sick, evil man intended to destroy her fragile peace, for there was no way this would not draw her into the open. Leo knew her now. No matter how much they insisted she stay under cover, she would do everything in her power to save her friend.

Though it went against his personal code, Leonardo found himself seriously considering assassination as a solution. Charlie was a demon and he didn't think he would regret infiltrating the man's home and slitting his throat while he slept.

 _I might even enjoy doing it._

"Do we have to tell her?" Mikey asked. "This'll tear her up."

"Keeping it from her is going to be next to impossible," Donnie said. "Even if we instigate a successful rescue in secret, she'll find out about it eventually and still feel guilty. If we tell her, she'll be upset but helping with the plan might alleviate some stress."

"Raph?" Leo asked, seeking his opinion.

Pain dashed across his brother's face before it hardened.

"She should know," he decided. "But I ain't got the heart to tell her."

"I'll do it," Don said with quiet resignation.

* * *

"I am not staying here!"

Morgan raised her voice because no one was listening, but it didn't help.

The brothers conferred over a number of possible rescue plans while Splinter and April debated the pros and cons of involving the FBI more directly, perhaps through the use of one of April's pseudonyms. Morgan listened to them argue and felt her life once again spinning out of control.

 _I've been basking in a feeling of safety, starting a new chapter with the love of my life while Sam suffered through weeks of torture._

She knew only too well what that felt like.

The moment Donnie had, oh so gently, broken the news, guilt slammed into her. Charlie was a sick son-of-a-bitch and there was no telling the horrors he subjected Samantha too, simply to amuse himself while he waited.

She suffered a short attack, several flashbacks she'd rather not have relived, but she recovered quickly with Raphael's help. The iron-will through which she'd survived her own captivity reared up inside of her, fortifying her to do what needed to be done, only to find a group consensus had effectively placed her on the sidelines.

While they welcomed her ideas, no one included her presence in their plans.

Frustration built as she listened to their schemes, each one more outlandish than the last. They were avoiding the simplest solution of all. The only one guaranteed to get Samantha out without further injury.

 _I must surrender._

Was it dangerous? Yes. Did it scare her practically senseless? Undoubtedly. But she knew Charlie. Secure in his feeling of dominance, he wouldn't expect her to have changed so much. She knew new defensive tricks, ones he hadn't taught her, and was stronger physically than before. She could disappear at will, hiding in shadow, and she had a family of superbly trained ninjas to back her up. As soon as Sam was safe with the FBI, Morgan could slip away.

 _It would be surrender in name only._

When she proposed her simple plan, however, Raphael shot it down.

"No," he said and turned away. He wasn't angry. Didn't give her any room to argue, just flat out said no.

She stood stunned into silence, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the others looked anywhere but her and she realized they all agreed. She clenched her fists.

"I see," she said in an icy voice. "Well if anyone _wants_ my help or advice, I'll be...here."

She waved a hand vaguely, taking in the whole of the lair and stomped off.

Dashing tears from her cheeks, she ran upstairs and down the hall towards the bedroom, but she stopped somewhere in the middle. This was the only problem with not having her own space. She didn't want to be surrounded by Raphael's scent at this moment.

 _I- I need to be alone..._

As she stood considering her options, an unfamiliar breeze touched her cheek and she turned to the closed door on her immediate right. The store room. She'd never been in, but from the draft creeping around the edges, it wasn't simply some dead end tunnel packed full of junk.

Opening the door, she brushed past various crates, boxes, and barrels of things, making her way to the far side where more open space prevailed. She sank to a crouch in its center and vented, sobbing quietly in a mixture of relief and rage.

She didn't _want_ to face Charlie, but she couldn't stand by while someone dear to her suffered.

 _Why couldn't Raphael understand?_

She didn't realize she'd stuffed both hands into her pockets and was clenching the speaking stone tight until her brother's mental voice startled her.

 _:Maur? Is that you? MAUR! Why are you crying?:_

She couldn't find words to explain. Drawing out the rock, she grabbed her knees and sobbed harder as her mind ran in rapid little circles.

 _:Maur. Mauriagonna, slow down. Breathe. I can't understand. Are you hurt?:_

She shook her head and collapsed to her side on the concrete floor, weeping uncontrollably into her crossed arms.

 _:Yes. No. Gods yes. Brenna, I'm so afraid!:_

Instantly his communication changed and she felt him deep inside her head, wrapping her in soothing layers of love and concern. She sensed a warm embrace as his mental projections closed around her shoulders and she shuddered as he probed at her surface thoughts. His rage ignited as he glimpsed her flashbacks, but he suppressed it, seeking further until he understood the whole story.

 _:Oh, my sweet, little one. This is not thy fault.:_

Phantom hands caressed her back and stroked her hair where she lay.

 _:And thy Match does not think thee incompetent. Raphael is afraid. He can't even contemplate thy plan without imagining terrible consequences. And he is not far wrong. Many are the risks in such an endeavor.:_

 _:But Brenna, I have to do something. Sam was all I had to turn to for almost six years. Having one friend, even one who had no idea what I was going through, kept me sane.:_

He thought for a while before drawing her to her feet.

 _:Take the stone to thy father. I will hear their plans and if thine is the more strategically sound, I will propose it anew. Perhaps some compromise can be reached.:_

 _:Thank you, Brenna.:_

 _:Do not thank me yet, little one. I do not condone putting thee in danger. But I can advise.:_

* * *

Morgan fretted and tried not to listen to the discussion in the front room. While initially happy to have input from her immortal sibling, she got the impression the feeling wouldn't last when Brenellean started promoting her plan. So she left them to it, retreating to Raphael's room and huddling in their bed, losing herself in her thoughts.

Charlie haunted her.

 _Everywhere I turn, every thought in my head, every decision I make is colored by his influence._

Up until this point, all her energy had been focused on getting away from him physically, but she was rapidly realizing that wasn't enough. If she didn't confront him, exorcise the demon from her life, he would always rule her whether she willed it or no.

Eventually, she concluded no matter what the family decided, she had to go. Afraid or not, she must face Charlie, for they had a connection she could not live with, a glamour of a darker kind.

 _I have to break free._

The conclusion terrified her and she shuddered violently, pulling her blankets with the comforting scent of Raphael around her shoulders.

 _Calm down. Nothing can be done tonight._

Even if they agreed her strategy was best, further plans would have to be hashed out. They would need to find some way to contact the kidnappers and determine a safe method for releasing Samantha into FBI custody.

Shouting broke out downstairs and Morgan winced. Raphael was certainly unhappy with the current topic. There was even, she supposed, a small possibility Brenellean would fail to convince them of the necessity of her involvement.

 _What will I do then? Sneak out?_

She didn't think she could. That felt too much like betrayal.

Hours later when Raphael entered the room, she was still debating. It was late and all she wanted to do was snuggle down with him and rest, but she had to know the verdict. She tilted her head at him, silent questions written all over her face.

Her heart jolted into high gear when he didn't speak, but simply walked to the bed and pulled her roughly to her knees before crushing her to his chest.

She closed her eyes and fought back tears. They decided her presence was required.

Raphael shifted his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck. She brushed feather-light fingers over his shell, trying to give him comfort she did not feel.

"Stay," he pled in a shaky voice. "Tell them ya changed your mind. Stay with me. Don't do this."

The tears she fought escaped and slid down her cheeks. She began to tremble and his hold tightened further.

"I have to go, love," she whispered. "If I keep hiding, nothing will change. I need to face him. Not just to save Sam, but to be free. Otherwise, he'll own me forever."

"You're _not_ his!" Raphael growled, drawing back to stare into her face. "You never were."

She shuddered, wishing he was right, but knowing in her heart he was wrong. Charlie was in her blood, poisoning her veins.

"He did more than just torture me," Morgan said. "He- he stole my freedom and corroded my will." She turned her face from Raphael in shame as she said, "I did things for him, to him. Things that weren't in the file. Things my soul may never forgive."

She dropped her arms, but he caught her hands in his.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he insisted. "You did what ya had to do to stay alive. I'll never fault ya for that, an' anyone who does will answer ta me."

She shook her head.

"It formed a bond," she said. "like the one I had with Donnie, but Charlie has no honor. He will never leave me be. I have to sever the connection."

"How?" he asked.

"I don't know. But I do know it can't happen if I slink away and hide for the rest of my life."

He stared into her eyes and didn't like the resolve he found there.

"Angel, please," he said, agony in his voice. "This is too dangerous. I can't lose ya."

He leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"Let me do this some other way. My brothers an' I, we can take him, hold him somewhere secure. Maybe Brenellean can undo whatever this is. If not, I'll make him bleed for what he's done, an' then eliminate him."

Sadly, she shook her head, her heart set.

"That won't save Samantha."

Unable to sway her, he seized her lips with his own.

"Please," he murmured between kisses. "Morgan, no."

She returned his passion, kissing him deeply, running her fingers over his face. His eyes were closed and liquid coated his cheeks. His tears almost broke her, but it was time to face her fate. Reluctantly, she disengaged and gave him her final decision.

"I'm sorry, my love. I have to do this, but I can't do it alone. Will you stay by my side?"

"Always."

* * *

Michelangelo did not like this plan. Not in the slightest. But then, neither did anyone else.

Still, it seemed the best way to release the unfortunate girl Charlie was holding against them. Because Morgan would never be free until Samantha was.

So, there would be an exchange.

Donatello managed to pry the ransom information out of the FBI computers. He forged a message informing Charlie that Morgan was ready to relent and a handoff was arranged. The meet would take place at an old warehouse on the edge of the docks.

They would wait on one side, her 'FBI' escort of Casey and April staying close. The abductors would be on the other with Sam and the two girls would pace past each other. Their human friends would retreat with Samantha, trigger the real FBI with an anonymous tip, and get the girl to a hospital.

Morgan would never leave the brothers' sight.

The moment she was almost in reach and the bad guys were most distracted, they would fall on the group and take them out.

Raphael, though, had not been content with the plan. When he emerged from his room this morning, his face was dark as a thundercloud and he hadn't slept a wink. Mikey bet he'd spent the entire night watching Morgan sleep, dreading the dawn.

Raph had gone straight to the dojo and trained lightly all day in preparation. The tension in his shoulders shouting not even a prank would help. He avoided Morgan until it was time to leave, then held her so long Mikey was sure his brother was going to call a halt to the whole proceeding.

But eventually, night fell and they left the lair.

Michelangelo threw a sharp look at his little sister as she prowled along at his side. She was dressed all in black and layered up against the cold until only her tiny, pixie-like nose was exposed, but she moved as gracefully as ever, despite the encumbrance of so many clothes.

His job tonight was to be Morgan's personal bodyguard. He was not to engage anyone who was not a direct physical threat. The moment the struggle began, he would retrieve her and whisk her back to safety.

It went against all his instincts to leave his brothers during a battle, but a second glance at Morgan firmed his resolve. Despite her brave front, she was trembling, and he didn't think it was from the temperature.

 _That bastard won't touch you. I promise._

It wasn't long until they were approaching the meeting place, stealthily moving over the rooftops.

Donnie raced ahead of them, setting perimeter lasers and establishing camera uplinks. The others, including Master Splinter, were dispersed in the shadows. Seeking out any hidden treachery in front of them.

The ruins came into sight and Mikey's eyes narrowed as he gave it a once over. Little was left of the place except a few walls of the foundation jutting up into the night. When he was sure the coast was clear, he helped Morgan down the fire escape to meet Casey and April at ground level.

"Everybody set?" Leonardo asked through their headsets as each brother moved to their assigned vantage points.

"Roger," Donatello said.

Raphael gave a small growl.

"In position," Mikey said. "Morgan is with Casey and April, headed for their side."

"Be cautious, my sons," Splinter said.

"Any sign of the bad guys?" Michelangelo asked as he scaled the building again for a higher perspective. He immediately took out his grappling hook in case he needed to swing down to the field in a hurry.

"All's quiet," Leo said.

"Nothing on the cameras," Donnie said, "The perimeter is still closed."

"Time's up," Leonardo warned. "It'll be any minute now."

* * *

Morgan waited squarely between Casey and April, trying to control the shudders racking her small frame.

 _This was my idea. I insisted on helping free Sam and facing down... him._

She could not flee now just because she was afraid. But there was more to it than that. An unsettling feeling of dread, deep in her bones, told her she might not walk away from this.

Unsteadily, she reached out for comfort and April took her hand.

"The boys are out there," she said. "They won't let anything happen to you."

"I know," Morgan replied through numb lips.

 _But who's going to keep something from happening to them?_

She could sense their auras surrounding the area. Mikey was at her back, his warm presence giving her a tiny bit of security. Donatello was somewhere to her right, several hundred feet away, but she knew how fast he could move. He wouldn't let anyone approach from there.

Raphael was on her left, hidden in an abandoned parking garage, aura practically scorching her skin. He was angry she was here. Furious Charlie might even have a chance to lay eyes on her. But underneath the rage, his fear pulsed in time with her own.

 _Be still. You're only making him worse._

Leonardo and Master Splinter were ghosts somewhere in the ruins. Neither sound nor aura, proclaiming their presence. She swallowed convulsively and April's grip tightened on her hand.

"Head's up. They're here," Casey said.

Morgan's blood ran cold, the chill racing from her scalp through her neck and down her spine. Ice pushed it's way into her limbs, making them heavy. Her thoughts dulled.

Beside her, Casey cursed.

"Geez, they brought a small army! There are at least forty Purple Dragons over there," Casey said, giving them a play by play. "They're forming up. Three people coming forward. A guy in a grey business suit, a PD, and a woman. That Samantha?" he asked.

Finding one human's signature among so many at this distance was difficult, even one as familiar as Sam's. Human auras weren't as bold as those of her new family, and the ice in her brain wasn't helping her focus. Also, she was trying hard not to touch the businessman. If it was Charlie, she wasn't sure what would happen, and she couldn't risk an attack in these surroundings.

"It's her," Morgan said, "but I can't tell how badly she's hurt."

"Well, she's upright and walking," Casey said. "We'll have to evaluate the rest later."

Morgan nodded. Taking a deep breath, she released April's hand and stepped forward. The girl at the other end did the same.

She almost broke and ran when Raphael's aura flared to her left, his fear increasing as she moved away from the perceived safety of their friends toward the evil waiting for her. With each step, his pulse increased in intensity, an irresistible draw for her senses. She fought not to turn her head.

 _I will not give his location away._

She faced forward, mechanically placing one foot in front of the next. As her mind numbed further, she wished she could hold him, tell him once more how much she loved him.

She stumbled and almost fell when her own aura began to pulse in time with his, stretching across the distance. It crossed the field in a flash, latching tight to him.

Alarm and rage crashed into her, followed by shock as Raphael recognized her presence.

 _This might be my last chance_.

She beat back her fear, closed her eyes, and sent him her heart.

In one gigantic push, she gave him her memories. She returned the comfort he'd brought during those endless nights filled with nightmares; her joy at having a guardian; relief on New Year's Eve.

The release of the first time he held her. Amusement at his careful behavior when his father revealed them. Her racing pulse as he allowed her to touch him. Her dread as she realized she was falling for him and didn't know if he felt the same.

The dream and it's passionate resulting kiss. Her devastation when he walked away. Her agony when she believed he could not see past her scars.

And her overwhelming joy and passion the night he came to her bed and proved her wrong.

She filled him to overflowing with the memories before returning to herself, releasing him with a forlorn mental kiss.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she was almost startled when the presence of her friend registered right in front of her. Calling her current mission to mind, she reached out and brushed her hand against Samantha's arm, a quick reassurance, and a goodbye.

A stifled sniff made her pause and lean her head toward Sam in consolation. She inhaled, just to make sure the girl would live, and braced for the reflection of her pain.

Horror rose up and claimed her.

Samantha was fine.

There wasn't a scratch on her.

* * *

Raphael watched as his angel marched steadfastly onto the field below. Fear flared inside him and he forcefully held himself back, gripping the ruined concrete barrier in front of him until it crumbled under his massive fist.

His heart raced, demanding he leap down and stop her. If they hadn't been practicing for this sort of situation, he would have. Instead, he listened to his head and stayed put, but it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

She looked absolutely alone out there, helpless. The perfect bait. His heart swelled with pride at her bravery, but when she stumbled and bent to catch her footing, it lurched in terror.

 _What happened? Has she been hit?_

For a split second, he thought she might have been shot. His mind clouded and he prepared to abandon the plan, to rush to her aid. And just as suddenly, she was with him, a cooling balm against the burn of his fear.

 _Succor, joy, amazement, relief, and passion._

The emotions rolled over him in time with the memories she shared. For a moment, he lost the world as it was and experienced only life as she remembered it. Warmth welled up within him at the gift. If she was with him, everything would be all right. He began to calm until she pulled away.

Her farewell kiss felt suspiciously like goodbye.

When his vision cleared, the girls stood side by side. Morgan brushed her friend's arm and Samantha leaned in, saying something low in her ear. His love went rigid in shock as a cruel smile spread across the other girl's face.

In slow motion, Raphael watched Morgan tense and turn in his direction.

Later he would remember this moment in intimate detail. Realize his eyes had captured her beautiful face in a single second of profound emptiness. He would recall the exact angle of her profile, the pale color of her cheeks, and how her eyelashes swept dramatically up above wide eyes gone utterly blank.

In that breath- she knew. She must have known.

Morgan screamed as an electric prod collided with his side, sending 9,000 volts through the bridge uniting his plastron and shell. He roared as pain shot through each nerve ending, vibrated every muscle, and left him temporarily blind.

Then the blows began. A hail of fists and feet. An unrelenting attack which should have dropped him bleeding and helpless to the ground. But Morgan still screamed, and nothing short of death itself was going to stop him from getting onto the field.

Arms out, sai clutched in each hand, he spun, opening room to fight. He shook his head and blinked rapidly as black shadows moved, dancing around him.

 _Foot soldiers._

He cursed and spat blood from a split lip, making the squeamish jump away as he counted those circling around him. They swung at him and he dropped back, moving further from his angel.

There were far too many to take out in his partially fried state. He hated to admit it, but he needed a hand. Across and down from his position, he heard the almost musical ring of weaponry bouncing off his brother's swords.

"Leo," Raph snarled into the headset, only to discover it was dead from the shock.

"LEO!" He roared into the night. "Little help here?"

In a blaze of flashing steel, his brother arrived, vaulting up between the levels of the parking structure. Bodies began to fall as Leonardo reached his side and they went shell to shell. He couldn't hear Morgan any longer.

"Any word on the others?" Raphael yelled. "I lost my headset. Did Mikey get her out?"

"Everyone's besieged," Leo snarled. "I don't know how they got so many Foot concealed here! They had to be here before we arrived, but-"

"Morgan!" Raph interrupted. "Is. Mikey. with. her?"

He punctuated every word with a blow and with each strike a man fell. But an unending supply of the black-clad forms waited to take their place. Raphael limped left and barely managed to twist clear of the guy with the prod. He couldn't take another hit from it and keep standing.

Luckily, Leonardo saw it. He concentrated his next series of attacks in that direction until he was almost on top of the man. The weapon shattered under his katana, along with the soldier's arm.

"No," Leo said while swinging his blade left, then right. He turned, dropped and cleared the space behind him with a swift sweeping kick. "Mikey's down, they swarmed him first. Splinter's getting him to where we parked the Battle Shell."

"Donnie?" Raphael asked in growing desperation as he fought off another four assailants on his side.

"He's falling back to our start position."

"NO ONE'S GOT HER?"

With a roar at this realization, he beat back the men blocking him in and surged toward the opening in the concrete. Perching in the hole, he ignored the beating of weapons against his shell as he scanned the area three stories below for any sign of Morgan.

People shouted, running everywhere.

Purple Dragons had taken the field and fanatically attacked anything that moved. Sometimes even their fellow gang members. Foot soldiers engaged them on all sides.

In the center of this vast swell of struggling bodies, his eyes locked on Morgan's form. Back pressed to a piece of jutting concrete and steel, she held an open space in front of her. A Purple Dragon stopped too close. She swung a length of rebar at his head and damn near brained the man. He dropped like a stone, but more trouble was coming.

A group of Foot gathered in a blade formation carved their way towards her. April and Casey were fighting in on the other side, but they wouldn't reach her in time. Raphael leapt into the crowd and rolled, crashing through the wall of humanity. He aimed himself for the soldiers, trying to cut them off, slicing, stabbing, and bashing his way through.

The sound of swords behind him said Leo followed, keeping a path open for their escape. He glanced up, measuring his distance to Morgan, only to see the blond girl snake an arm around her throat and pull her bodily over the slab of concrete.

"NO!" Raphael shouted.

Morgan's head and shoulder's reappeared a moment later as she broke free and stood, shaking her head, confused. She found her balance and was about to dart away when Leo shrieked.

"Raph, get down!"

He ducked as a grenade flew over him.

 _It has to be one of the PD's. They're the only ones stupid enough to bring explosives to a mob fight._

Whoever threw it had poor aim, because they missed him by a mile. At least, he thought they did. His eyes widened in horror as he traced the explosive's remaining flight path.

It bounced once, hitting the top of the concrete right in front of where Samantha rose up and tackled Morgan. It lifted into the air as if pulled by a string and...

Detonated.


	36. Always Your Angel

**Always your Angel**

Raphael opened his eyes and stared blankly up at the ceiling, bemused to find himself in the lair, much less his own bed. Hadn't he been somewhere else? Wasn't there fighting? He couldn't recall how he had gotten here.

It didn't matter. All that mattered was he was home, the danger was over and he was lying next to his angel. The scent of her filled the room and he reached across the bed to pull her nearer, craving her warm body against his. He frowned when his hand encountered nothing but empty space.

 _It's late, she should be in bed._

She needed her rest after such a long day, but perhaps nature called. A small smirk lit his face as he remembered the last time he found her in the hall at night, unable to make the trek to the bathroom on her own.

The smile made his face ache and he raised a hand to it, confused as to why it hurt. Tender bruises met his exploring fingers, a split lip, and crispy skin. His cheeks burned when he touched them. Flinching back, desire exploded within him. He needed Morgan, this instant.

 _Ah, the Trickster said this would happen. If one of us is injured the relationship becomes... intensely physical. It shouldn't be a problem. She likes my type of physical._

He rolled to the side and threw his legs out of bed, preparing to find his love, wherever she might be, and bring her back to their room. But when he moved, he groaned. His whole body ached.

A little more aware, he took stock of himself. Bandages wrapped his arms from shoulder to elbow, his torso hurt like he'd been hit with a steel beam and a long shallow cut ran down one thigh. He grunted as he forced himself to his feet.

 _Musta been one hell of a fight. Too bad the healing thing don't work both ways._

Still, he would enjoy letting Morgan try to trigger the process. With another smile, he limped to the door.

* * *

"How long do you think he'll be out?"

Leonardo's subdued voice was gravelly with grief as he laid a hand on Donatello's shoulder. The genius started at the touch, looking up with bright red-rimmed eyes from the lab computer screen.

Though he'd been staring at it for almost an hour, Don was so distraught his brain had shut down. He couldn't have said what the report was about to save his life. His face was wet and he paused to scrub at it before he spoke, using the distraction to get his scattered thoughts in order.

"A while, I hope," he said, his voice as tired and torn from weeping as his brother's. "Raph's face and arms were burned in the explosion. He's bruised and the electricity messed with his nervous system. He was twitching a lot the last time I checked on him. It's preferable if he stays unconscious so his body can recover."

 _Better if he doesn't know she's gone._

The words remained unspoken, but they were both thinking the same thing.

"And Michelangelo?" Leo asked. "How is he doing?"

Donnie's gaze flicked to the cot behind him where the youngest turtle lay sleeping.

"He'll be ok. The charge they used on him was less than what they jabbed Raph with. He went down quick, but he'll be up after a few days rest."

"And you?"

The quiet inquiry started the gentle genius crying again. Tears gathered in his eyes and slowly slipped down his cheeks.

"I'm not sure," Donnie said, voice breaking. "How could we let this happen?"

"It is easy to find fault within oneself when tragedy strikes," Master Splinter said from the door. His own eyes were damp, his ears pressed flat to his skull. "But there are things which occur that are beyond all control."

"We shouldn't have let her come," Don said with a sob. "I - I should have done more investigating. I might have uncovered that _bitch's_ true nature."

Leonardo leaned over and embraced his brother, trying to lend him strength.

"We cannot change the past, my sons," Splinter said, crossing to them. He rested a gentle paw on Donatello's head and another on Leonardo's arm. "Blame, guilt, and shame will not return the one we have loved and lost."

Leo's tears joined his brother's and he turned his head into Splinter's shoulder, seeking some comfort of his own. In the darkness behind his lids, Morgan smiled, teasing him gently. "She was remarkable," he whispered. "So brave and determined to do what was right."

"Strong," Donnie said. "And so kind. She suffered so much, yet still had a tender heart."

"I don't know how we're going to break the news to her brother," Leo said, drawing away and shaking his head. "If he takes it wrong, he will be a dangerous enemy."

"You should be more worried about how we're going to tell Raph," Don said with a moan.

"Tell me what?"

Donatello's eyes snapped up to the door where Raphael was leaning on the frame, favoring his side. He'd tied on a mask but otherwise left off his gear and was looking much the worse for wear. He shouldn't even be able to stand, much less already be out of bed.

* * *

Raph's eyes were fogged with pain, but his gaze swept over the gathered knot of his family, noted their tears, then darted past them to his fallen sibling in the cot.

"Mikey?" His voice faltered and he paled. "Is - Is he-"

"Your brother will be fine," Splinter said, crossing to him and helping him to a seat by Donatello.

Raph sagged into his father's support with relief, then sank into the chair.

"Geez, don't do that to a fella," he said, "I come down here and you're all cryin'. Of course I'm gonna think something's wrong."

His eyes narrowed as he once again searched their faces. A hint of Morgan's scent blew through the room from behind him and she stroked the back of his head in a light caress.

 _So, this is where she's been hidin'. Shoulda known she'd be here with Mikey in such a state._

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her, relaxing with a sigh before opening them again.

"So, what's the big problem?"

Nothing he could call to mind would warrant Leonardo's tears unless perhaps Karai had gone down in the fight. But he didn't remember seeing the black haired kunoichi.

No one answered him.

Donatello's face twisted, eyes shut tight. It looked like his little brother was about to be sick. That was saying something since the genius was known for dealing with blood, guts, and bone without batting an eye. Or wading through a ton of sewage for a piece of junk only he thought was valuable.

 _What could possibly be so bad?_

"Leo?" He said, looking to his older brother in concern.

His usually calm, confident sibling turned his head away, tears running again from under his mask. Raph began to get angry. A little spark of fear formed in his chest as his father knelt in front of his chair and took both his hands.

Morgan's tiny palms, resting lightly on his shoulders, were the only things keeping him seated.

"Is it April?" He guessed with a gasp. "Was she hurt bad? I have ta see Casey. He'll need me. Maybe we should put him up here until she's better, yeah?"

His father blinked in surprise and sorrow flashed across his eyes.

Raphael moaned, fearing the worst.

"She's dead?"

All his breath left him in a rush. It was one of their greatest fears come to life. He remembered her dashing into the battle last night, trying to come to Morgan's rescue, Casey at her side waving his sticks like a madman. As much as losing her hurt Raph, Case would be destroyed. They'd only been married a few years, but his friend's life revolved around the spunky red-head.

Morgan was probably devastated, the girls had become so close over the past few weeks.

 _I hope she don't blame herself._

Freeing one hand from his father's grasp, he reached over his shoulder to take her arm in comfort, but she'd already released him, seeking solitude in the corner. He didn't turn. He didn't need to see her to know she was upset. He could feel her sorrow radiating across the room.

"How'd it happen?" He asked.

Knowing the details wouldn't make it better, but it would let him know who to kill. Their long time friend and companion deserved at least that much justice. Again silence fell and Splinter remained frozen in his kneeling position.

 _He's known April as long as the rest of us. What's it been, ten, twelve years? It's hitting him hard as well._

Tears stung at his eyes as Raphael leaned down to hug his father, his huge arms enveloping the smaller rat gently. Splinter returned his embrace, holding tight for a moment before drawing back with a sorrowful sigh.

"My son," Splinter said in a choked voice. He paused to swallow before speaking again, this time, more firmly. "My son. April is whole and at home with your friend."

Raphael blinked, confused, but his master continued to stare into his eyes. The fear returned to his chest, growing into a massive black hole, sucking at his heart.

"There is no easy way to break such news," his father said, laying his ears back in sorrow.

"The one we are mourning is Morgan."

* * *

The screaming had been going on for hours.

Leonardo secretly wished his brother's voice would go, leaving them all a little peace to grieve. But that was a terrible, selfish desire for it had taken all of them to convince Raphael that she was gone.

At first, Raph flatly denied it, protesting she was still here, even in the room. As his frantic eyes scanned the space, he insisted they were mistaken. He launched himself from the chair, searching the lair twice over, calling out to her repeatedly.

Leonardo cornered him in the living room, trying to make him sit and cease his agitated search before he hurt himself any worse than he already was.

"You don't know she's gone!" Raphael shouted. "She can disappear, remember? Morgan! This ain't funny, come out!"

"I know she could," Leo said soothingly, "but-"

"Can, CAN! She ain't dead. Don't speak of her in the past tense! Angel! Where are you?"

He tried to push by his brother to the main door.

"She must have gone out. Donnie check the cameras! She could be lost out there."

When Donatello didn't move, Raph snarled and sprang at him, but his father stepped in between them, stopping him cold with a reproving glare.

"RAPHAEL! Please try to collect yourself," Splinter said, "Your mate would not thank you for inflicting further injury on your person or your family."

"My mate would not..." Raph trailed off, eyes wide in disbelief, then he exploded. "MY MATE IS OUT THERE SOMEWHERE! Maybe lost in her own mind. I'm not going to sit here and-"

"Yes," Splinter raised his voice, "you are. Donatello, bring the recording."

A grief-stricken Donnie retreated to his lab, returning swiftly with a tablet. The scenes from the four cameras he'd placed last night queued up. Raphael only had eyes for one. The frame where Morgan was crossing methodically into view.

As the scene unfolded, memories came flowing back. The sudden warm presence of her aura touching his, the flow of emotions, a moment of betrayal. He watched with rapt attention, seeing things he hadn't been able to while he was fighting.

Morgan's image screamed while his body shuddered at the remembered shock from the prod.

Samantha tackled her to the dirt and they rolled, gouging up the earth as they engaged in a fierce battle all their own. Morgan twisted, kicked Sam off, and ran, retreating to a more defensible position. On the way, a Purple Dragon snatched at her, catching her coat. She wiggled out of it, still fleeing.

She located a long piece of rebar and crouched in front of a concrete pier holding it defensively before her. For almost five minutes she was left alone, throwing chunks of debris at the combatants around her and swinging her improvised weapon at anyone who came too near.

He remembered the next hit, the one to the soldier who fell at her feet like a stunned ox. Samantha reappeared, grabbing Morgan in a choke hold and dragging her behind the column. He knew what was coming and his heart clenched as a small black object sailed into view.

"Grenade," he said flatly.

The image went white and jerked wildly. For a few seconds, there was nothing but smoke covering the area. As it began to dissipate, he saw Leo diving toward his own unmoving, scorched form, falling to his knees, searching for a pulse. Donnie entered the frame and helped his brother drag him out of view.

But Raphael didn't care, couldn't tear his eyes away from the pile of rubble that moments before had been a support of concrete and steel. For the tiny body of his love, his angel, lay half buried in the debris. A graceful arm in a black sleeve with a slim hand reached forth in mute appeal. Curly hair fluttered under a ton of pulverized gravel.

"It can't be," Raphael said, gasping for breath as the air thinned around him.

He clutched at the tablet. His head spun. He struggled to enlarge the scene, seeking proof this was all some sick joke. This still form wasn't Morgan. It couldn't be. His desperate eyes fastened on her wrist. There, glimmering under the edge of her dark shirt was the bracelet he fashioned for her only the day before when she'd needed something to hold the speaking stone.

The device dropped from his numb fingers.

Colors drained away from his sight, leaving him staring at ashes.

His whole body shook and he began to scream.

* * *

Leonardo ran, pushing himself hard.

 _Faster._

He couldn't sit still while his family was falling apart with grief. He wanted to be able to console them with _something_.

He rapidly left the tunnels behind and climbed to the rooftops, vaulting the gaps between buildings as he raced toward his goal. Raphael was in no shape to pursue vengeance, but it was way past time this was resolved.

He cleared alleyways of twenty feet. Thirty. Forty.

 _Farther._

Yet no matter how fast or how far he traveled, he could not escape the guilt.

 _I failed as a leader... and a brother._

Not only had the mission collapsed into chaos, but they had lost their most vulnerable family member.

 _And we may lose Raph as well._

Finishing his objective tonight would not help. Nothing could bring Morgan back.

 _But I WILL eliminate the murderer._

His goal came quickly into sight. A small office building several blocks from Vallen's main headquarters. Leonardo locked down his mind, freezing his emotions as he focused all his attention on the situation at hand.

 _There, the sixth floor._

A light was still on. He could see someone moving about. His eyes narrowed as he assessed their motions, ignoring the sting of tears which still fell. The ones no technique he knew would stop.

It was a matter of seconds to jimmy the lock on the rooftop door. Mere minutes to make his way to the office in question. The late night worker was a woman and he stalked her silently as she moved from room to room, shutting off the lights, preparing to leave.

Now was his moment to strike.

The impeccably dressed blonde was pinned to the desk in the dark before she even knew he was there, his large hand clamped over her mouth, a knife at her throat.

"Do exactly as I ask," he said in a lethal whisper, "and I will let you go. Test me and you will regret it."

At her frightened nod, he removed his hand. She couldn't stop staring at his face, but she didn't seem truly surprised by his appearance. The secretary may never have expected to meet him, but she knew who he was.

"You work for Charles Hargrove," he said. It wasn't a question, but the scared woman nodded anyway. "Where is he?"

For a moment he thought she wasn't going to answer. The blonde shook in his hold, but eventually she turned and pointed to the Vallen highrise- just visible from the office window. Finally, she found her voice.

"He's in one of the guest suites. The- the Shred-," she cut herself off, "Mr. Saki was displeased with the way he handled the... events of this evening. I- I- They told me he'd be there until he answered some questions. Probably a couple of days."

 _Damn. There's no way I'm getting in there to kill him without a full team._

Something else she said caught his attention. A harsh gleam lit his eyes and twisted his lip.

"How do you know the Shredder?"

"I- I don't," the woman gasped as he shifted his grip to her throat. "Karai! Karai is my contact!"

 _She wasn't there tonight, but the Foot were. She must have known..._

"Call her."

* * *

Leonardo stood waiting, feet braced apart, head lowered. Deliberately exposing himself in the moonlight on top of the office building. A drawn katana, balanced point down in front of him.

It was time, long past time, he ended this ridiculous farce of a relationship. The struggle they had, the give and take, excited him once. Now, after seeing his brother's love, experiencing how deep and pure the emotion could be, it just felt like he was being used.

Luckily the kunoichi did not keep him waiting long. The moment she appeared, his anger overflowed and he spun on her without a second thought. She barely drew a knife in time to deflect the unexpected sword as he swung at her.

"Leo!" Karai protested, grunting as she deflected another full force attack.

She ducked under his blade, rolled to the side and pulled her own katana. For a few short minutes, they clashed, neither finding an advantage over the other.

"Leonardo!" She yelled over the noise. " _What_ is your problem?"

"You!" He shot back, lip twisted in rage. "You and your whole clan. You pretend to understand honor. You tempt me to trust you with helpful little insights, but it's all a lie. You care nothing for me or the innocent people you hurt."

"Leo," his tirade caught her off guard and she paused, only now noting the tears he could not control. Lowering her weapon, she reached a hand toward him, palm out. "What happened?"

He swung at her again, but she did nothing to defend herself. She stood stock still and at the last second he screamed, pulling up short.

The sword halted a hairsbreadth from her face.

She blinked at him calmly, ignoring the blade as he froze threateningly in his stance.

"Tell me," she said.

"You knew," he snarled. "You had to have known. No group of Foot that large would have engaged without your authority as second in command."

"How large? Where?"

He barked a laugh.

"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you. Over two hundred of your men tried to take us down in an ambush tonight when we went to save Morgan's friend. The dishonorable cowards used electrical prods and explosives. An innocent woman was killed."

She flinched again, startled, and he began to feel a little less sure of himself.

"I authorized a party of thirty to coordinate with Hargrove tonight in an exchange with the FBI," she said. "Your team has taken that number successfully before. And I certainly didn't approve explosives!"

"No one under you would dare countermand such orders," Leo said with venom. "So you wanna try to lie to me again?"

"Someone over me might," she snapped. "This friend, she was the innocent?"

"No. And if she's not dead, she better pray I never find her."

"Ah, so she was the traitor I warned of after all. So the victim was..."

"My sister."

He watched her eyes as the wheels turned in her head, trying to understand what he was saying. Horror rose in her gaze.

"Morgan?"

Her shocked exclamation and the look in her eyes shook him. Karai hadn't known. She truly hadn't. Without a target to focus on, all his anger drained away. Leaving him filled with grief. He sheathed his sword, movements automatic, and stepped away.

"I thought my warning would be enough," she said with a sigh. "I only met her once, but there was something unique about her, a quiet draw that affected even me."

She tilted her head curiously in Leo's direction.

"You claim her as family? Does that mean she and Raph were- No, nevermind. I don't want to know. What I don't know, I don't have to hide from _him_."

"Why do you do it, Karai?" Leo asked in a hollow voice. "Why do you stay?"

"Because the Foot clan once had honor, and with the right leadership, it might again."

"Your ambition is going to get you killed."

She lowered her eyes.

"Everything has a price."

He snorted.

"Some are too high."

* * *

Donatello paused, glancing up at the door as Leonardo entered his lab. He smiled wanly, happy his older brother had come to his senses and returned home after his night away. He hadn't asked where Leo had gone, and the leader hadn't volunteered any information, but they needed his strength and focus here if they were going to get through this.

Don resumed packing the duffel in front of him, checking to make sure he had everything he would need: A headset; his microscanning heat-vision goggles; some miscellaneous sundries; and... a body bag.

He zipped the carryall and threw it crossways over his shoulder before sliding his bo into place.

"You sure you want to go tonight, Donnie?" Leo asked.

The genius nodded.

"It's been two days. If I leave it any longer, they'll start the autopsy and I..." His eyes shimmered, but he hardened his heart. "I have to go now."

"I could come with you," Leonardo offered. "You don't have to face this alone. Father's watching over Raphael."

Don shook his head.

"He'll want your muscle if Raph needs sedating again. Besides, Mikey will be up soon and he's going to take the news hard. He looks to you, Leo. You should stay and comfort him."

Leonardo nodded and gripped Don's shoulder, still worried. The genius looked fragile, his chocolate eyes almost black with sorrow as he tightened his violet bandana and prepared to leave. Leo wanted to tell him not to go, but he couldn't shield his brother from this heartbreak.

"Bring her back to us," he said instead. "We'll make sure she gets a decent burial where we can visit her safely. Somewhere we can all mourn."

Donnie nodded, not bothering to mention his own reason for wanting to recover Morgan's body from the morgue. He knew what would happen the moment someone discovered how different she was. He couldn't stand the thought of some Medical Examiner dissecting her for scientific experimentation.

 _She deserves to rest in peace._

"I'll get the bracelet too," he said. "Brenellean needs to know what happened and Splinter thinks he can still make it work."

"Be careful," his brother said in parting. "I'll tell Sensei you're going."

* * *

Michelangelo pried his eyes open. It was difficult as the lids were stuck together with salt and grit, but eventually, he could see though even the dim light made his head throb.

 _Shit, I hurt. My head hurts, my body hurts... Even my mask hurts._

He turned his head, bleary gaze taking in the mismatched tables, overstuffed shelves, and the prevalence of chemistry equipment.

 _Huh. Don's lab. Musta really been bad if he didn't put me to bed. Wonder how long I've been out?_

He'd felt like this once before when a young girl freaked because he tarried too long after a rescue and tasered him.

 _I hate electricity._

 _Unless it's powering my games. Or cooking my food. Or providing light, or heat. Ok, I guess it has it's moments. But I wish the Foot would stop using it._

At the thought of the Foot, his mind stalled.

 _Shit! Morgan! They were crawling all over that warehouse. Did we get her out?_

He swung his legs out of bed, no longer caring about the deep ache in his muscles as concern for his family, and his li'l sis, drove him forth. A quick glance cleared the lab.

 _No Donnie. Odd._

He shuffled to the door and leaned on the frame heavily, peering out in the living room. It was silent. Deadly quiet and dark. No sparring came from the dojo, no chanting from the meditation room. Even the sound from the TV was muted though the screen flickered- showing the evening news. The sliding door to Splinter's quarters was open but their master was nowhere in sight.

Fear slithered down his spine.

 _Did the Foot get them all?_

For a moment, he stood shaking but logical thought prevailed. Somebody had to have brought him home.

"Hey!" he called into the open space. "Anyone alive out there?"

It was supposed to be funny, but as soon as he said it his stomach flipped.

 _What if some of them aren't? OK, chill. Be positive, dude. You don't know anything._

Taking a deep breath, he shoved away from the door and made his way shakily to the sofa. No one was in the kitchen and as his eyes flicked around, they landed again on the television screen.

A male reporter was recapping the fight, a tiny square over his shoulder showing some panning footage of the aftermath.

Reaching over the back of the couch for the remote, Mikey un-muted the sound.

"Still no word on the identities of the majority of the dead, in what police are calling an all out war on the lower east side. It happened just two nights ago in the ruins of an abandoned warehouse slated for demolition later this month. Authorities believe it may have been two rival gangs fighting over turf, but as many fled the scene it has been hard to piece together the whole story."

That tiny square expanded to fill the screen and memories flashed through Mikey's mind as he saw the terrain. Leo yelling something over the headset, Morgan stopping in the middle of the exchange and screaming. He reached for his grapple to go to her, then...

 _Nada. Must have been when they hit me with the juice._

The carnage on screen was awful. His family had obviously fought hard. But weirdly the Dragons and the Foot had battled each other as well, because not all the damage was from his brothers' weapons. Some of fallen were shot, and there was a huge, black hole in the center of the field.

 _Some idiot used explosives?_

The reporter continued to speak over the scene as it zoomed in close on the devastation left in the crater. Piles of rubble, singed timbers, and melted, bent metal- all spattered in blood.

"Forty-six have been confirmed dead and ten remain in critical condition at local hospitals. Many of the deceased were identified by police as members of the notorious Purple Dragon organization which has plagued our city for years. Others were of no previously known group, but their identical clothing and masks suggest they may have been forming a gang of their own.

Also among the dead was a single civilian who, detectives say, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It will be hard to identify the young woman as she carried no ID and the explosion you see here caused a great deal of destruction to her features.

She is described as a petite, white woman in her late twenties with reddish-brown curly hair, wearing an unusual bracelet. A plain gold band inset with a pale white stone and a unique inscription. If you know this woman or recognize the bracelet, please contact the coroner's office at 555-456-0934."

 _Oh my god. OH MY GOD! It can't be._

Mikey's finger frantically stabbed the remote and he backed up the footage and replayed the description.

"a petite, white woman in her late twenties with reddish-brown curly hair..."

"Sis," he moaned.

Michelangelo's knees began to shake and his stomach rebelled. He turned and vomited bile all over the floor, wishing he could reject the bloody pictures and everything they stood for.

 _I failed her. I was her bodyguard. Hell, I'm her big brother! I was supposed to watch out for her!_

As he righted himself, Leonardo was coming down the stairs. Mikey locked horror filled eyes with his brother's steely blue-greys, begging him without words to refute this unthinkable turn of events.

Leo drew closer, glanced at the TV and blanched, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said.

The leader's voice was no longer calm and steadfast, but weary and resigned. So full of sorrow and regret, Mikey could not doubt the truth. Tears welled up and overflowed as he lurched forward into Leonardo's arms.

 _My sister. My precious little sister is gone._

* * *

Donatello stood silently in the middle of the morgue, surrounded by cold, impersonal stainless steel and frowned at it in distaste. This wasn't the right place for her. She hated medical facilities and the smell of disinfectant. Morgan deserved to be embraced by nature, covered with flowers and green, vibrant life.

He found a computer in the corner and bypassed the login, searching for her. His large hands skimming the keys. According to this, her possessions were secured in a storage box on the wall. He traced the number and fastened his electronic lockpick to the door. It swung open in seconds. Swiftly, he checked the evidence bag for the bracelet. It tumbled out into his hand and Raphael's inscription caught the light.

 _'Never alone, always my Angel.'_

Donnie bit his lip to stop the tears, shoving it roughly back in the envelope before tucking the entire contents into his duffel. That accomplished, he turned and drew out the body bag. Zipping it open, he laid it over one of the empty stainless tables nearby.

He paused in front of the large refrigerated drawers and swallowed hard. This was going to be the toughest part, seeing her lifeless body up close and in person. On the field, he'd been too busy trying to carry Raph back to the Battle Shell to take more than a quick sorrowful glance. But now he would have to look her in the face and handle her cold, stiff corpse.

He steeled himself for a flood of pain and slid the drawer open.

Despite the preparation, he gagged and quickly turned his face away. Tears threatening again. Too many bodies were involved in the fight. The coroner hadn't had time to do more than strip her clothes and put her on ice, for she was still coated in grey concrete dust. And he didn't need to examine her too closely to determine the cause of death.

If the blast hadn't killed her outright, the heavy stone finished the job, crushing the life from her. Her skull was destroyed, the once beautiful face unrecognizable. In fact, most of her bones were fractured; arm, legs, and feet all shattered. If he left her, they would have a hard time identifying the body. Dental records wouldn't be much use, nor would fingerprints, for both her hands were charred.

Tears running down his cheeks, he scooped her off the cold metal drawer and carried her carefully to the table nearby. But tucking her inside the bag was not an easy task to accomplish by himself. He turned her slightly and caught a glimpse of something odd underneath. Curiosity was a trait ingrained in Donatello's very nature. He could no more ignore it than he could fly. Even in these tragic surroundings, overcome by grief, he had to pursue it.

Laying her on her stomach, he clicked on the powerful spotlight suspended overhead.

* * *

"Mmm..."

Raphael twisted restlessly to his side and smiled as a tiny hand brushed across his brow, dancing over his features, checking to see if he was awake. Warm, sweet breath caressed his face.

"It's time to get up, love," her rich voice said, a throaty whisper he found impossible to resist.

"Let's just stay here," he murmured.

Reaching sleepily for her, he pulled her close and shoved his face into her hair, inhaling her heady aroma as soft arms closed around him. The desire he barely held in check flared to life.

"We need to talk," she said.

"It can wait," he said with a mock growl, "I want you."

"I want you too," she said, then she sighed, relaxing a moment in his embrace. "I can't wait to really be in your arms again."

Confused, he pulled her a bit closer.

"These arms ain't real enough for ya?" He asked. "How about this?"

He leaned down and kissed her lips, long and hot, passionately. She groaned into his mouth, entwined her arms around his neck and held on tight. For several minutes, they were lost in bliss as he stroked her hair and kissed her until she panted for breath.

Abruptly she tensed and pulled away.

"Raphael, I can't stay. It's not safe to sleep."

"Who said anything about sleep? Besides, I'll pummel anyone who tries to bother us."

She sat up, straddling his midsection as he rolled to his shell and raised each of his hands to her mouth, kissing the outsides lightly.

"That's my hot-head," she chuckled, "always thinking with his fists."

"I'll be thinkin' with somethin' else if ya keep that up," he said with a smirk.

He cracked his lids to see her smile, wanting a glimpse of her gorgeous sunrise which put the real one to shame, but the room was dark and he couldn't make her out, even though she was so close.

Suddenly afraid, he closed his eyes tight and reached for her again, but her weight was gone, the sheets were cold, and her scent was fading.

"Stop!" she cried. "I haven't told him, I'm still here!"

Deep inside, his soul pulsed as she waned; a ghost in the shadows stealing away with everything he held dear.

"Morgan!" He begged as she ripped his soul apart. "Don't leave me!"

But she was already gone. Only a tiny echo lingered in the dark, whispering to his heart.

 _"Always your Angel."_

* * *

"Six years. Six YEARS of work down the drain," Charlie railed, his angry voice filling the Shredder's audience chamber. "I HAD her. She was walking right into my hands-"

"YOU walked right into their trap," Shredder said cutting him off. "The entire Hamato clan were lying in wait. Even that fool Splinter came out of his lair! Did you think you could lure her back so easily? If I hadn't increased the number of Foot soldiers Karai requested, you wouldn't have survived the skirmish."

"Skirmish? You lost thirty-five men! The Dragons lost twenty! That's more like a war. And where was the much-vaunted kunoichi?"

"She was assigned another task. And such losses are to be expected when dealing with these enemies," Shredder said with disdain. "They are implacable and unforgiving. Now, they will come for you. I suggest you run. Fast and far, for I will no longer protect you."

"Morgan's death wasn't my fault! Who authorized explosives at this little meet and greet? I certainly didn't," Charlie said with a snarl. He clenched his fist. "She was worth millions."

"Somehow, I doubt the turtles will give you an opportunity to spout your excuses," Shredder said with dry humor. "But you can try. As a consolation, I will return your company. If you survive long enough to get home, I might even consider investing in the girl's successor. Now go. Your incessant whining bores me."

With a flourish of his cape, the Shredder disappeared into the darkness behind his throne, leaving an open-mouthed Charlie gaping. Reluctantly, he headed for the door and exited the building, the picture of defeat.

He climbed into his limousine, head hanging. He closed the door.

A smiling Julia, in a short black cocktail dress, handed him a flute of ice-cold champagne.

"Saki is convinced," Charlie said, straightening from his slump to take the beverage.

"So are the 'turtles'," she said. "As you predicted, one came to the office." She shuddered. "He was... unbelievable."

Hargrove gave her a satisfied smile, disregarding her remark. His mind already wholly consumed with the evening to come.

"Now..." he said, voice filled with glee, "take me to her."


	37. Fragile, Broken Things

**Fragile, Broken Things**

Karai crouched, practically invisible in her black body suit and face mask on a beam high over her adoptive father's throne, blending into the darkness. Eyes narrowed, she watched intently as Charles Hargrove squirmed under the Shredder's critical gaze, filling the air with pointless excuses.

Saki knew she hovered above. A master of his caliber could hardly miss her, yet he did not call her out. He, too, suspected the slimy businessman of treason and she sensed his silent approval of her covert mission to surveil Hargrove, even if her reasons for investigating were... different than his.

Her father's specious errand took her from the city that night and kept her from the battle, but the aftermath raised her suspicions. She knew more was going on than she had been privy too.

After Leonardo's visit, Karai assumed her father seized the half-assed 'trap' as an opportunity to strike against them. But, despite Shredder's claims, the turtles did not usually leave them with such losses. Broken bones were the norm. Death was rare, only resulting when her own soldiers carelessly engaged too long. Yet somehow, she had lost 35 souls to this fight and another 10 remained in the critical recovery wing of the hospital.

 _Completely unacceptable!_

She'd toured the morgue herself and a mere handful of deaths were attributable to the Hamatos, mostly Raphael.

 _Idiots probably stood between him and Morgan._

The rest mysteriously took bullets to the chest or died in the unexpected blast.

She'd hauled Hun in and raked him over the coals for allowing explosives on the field. Tearing into him for losing control of his forces to the extent they attacked members of the Foot. However, even under extreme questioning, the man insisted his Dragons stayed loyal.

Hargrove, Hun said, paid a group of mercenaries to be extra bodies on the scene and they allowed the Turtles to escape. Karai might have forgiven such a loss, for Leonardo and his team had slipped out of traps for years. But the girl's death was reprehensible.

 _I'd have stepped in myself if I'd known she would be there. To hell with father's errand!_

For Morgan created a shift in the dynamic of the Hamato family, one even Karai sensed. Time had seen the brothers drifting apart - though they still battled pretty damn effectively, but the addition of the girl drew them together again, reminded them why they fought. She made them more dangerous than ever before.

One untutored in strategy might think her death a good thing, but Karai knew the power of revenge in the hands of the righteous and she wasn't sure the Foot would survive. They might, they just might, if she convinced Leonardo beyond a shadow of a doubt Morgan's demise wasn't their fault.

A vision of his tortured expression in the filtered moonlight danced behind her eyes and she shivered as a wave of damnable desire swept through her.

 _I've never seen him that way before. A dark, vengeful prince. Full of shadow and fury._

Over the years, Leonardo had cooly overcome everything she had ever thrown at him. He seemed impervious to her ways, never deviating from his own code of conduct. They met repeatedly in battle, testing each other time and time again. Their ferocious contention holding an allure neither could resist. She understood him, his movements, his reasoning.

Yet that night... he'd been near to murder. His stormy eyes threatened her end, but she had seen something more hidden in their depths.

 _Honor on the edge of breaking._

Attacking without fully ascertaining the truth was not his way, but before she even arrived he had decided to cut her loose. She sensed it in his first blow and there was no doubt in her mind, if she had kept fighting, she would now be lying dead.

Surrendering without regard for her own safety- speaking to his emotions -was the only thing that saved her. Yet, she could not credit her flimsy excuses. Under the pain, he still cared or his sword would have swept right through her.

Karai sighed silently, dismissing the thought. She chose her path long ago and not even he could save her now. Nor she comfort him.

 _But I can offer him the true villain's head on a platter._

Her attention turned again to the man arguing his innocence below her. When he left, she intended to follow with a few handpicked men she knew were loyal only to her.

Her mouth firmed into a thin line. Hargrove was responsible. All the little loose threads in her investigation led back to him. And the more strands she gathered, the more likely his plans would unravel when she decided to tug.

* * *

"Say goodbye to your friends..."

The words Samantha whispered were cruel and twisted. A knife in the gut, they struck so unexpectedly Morgan didn't immediately feel the pain. Then, realization hit her hard. Sam was in on it! Bait to lure them all into the open.

 _I have to warn them!_

She reached for Raphael, forcing her aura back quickly, but the moment she touched him horrible agony lanced through her. She screamed, echoing his roar, barely noticing when Samantha tackled her. She had no conscious control. All she could do was open her mouth in a piercing cry she hoped would alert the others.

Her body fought back. Hours spent with Leonardo made certain patterns ingrained so by the time the burning stopped, she'd thrown off the other girl. She stumbled to her feet, running for cover she hadn't noticed on the way out. She'd even picked up a weapon...

Morgan started awake, leaving the memory behind.

Water dripped somewhere nearby. The ground on which she lay felt hard and cold, a sort of smooth, ceramic tile. She shivered, remembering she lost her coat. Twitching her arms and legs, she compiled a list of injuries. Everything ached. Dozens of bruises complained at this sudden motion after hours of stillness. Her jaw hurt something awful.

 _What happened?_

She shuddered and tried to rise, causing something metallic to clink across the floor. At first, she didn't associate the sound with her movements, but panic struck her as the familiar weight of manacles became apparent.

 _No. No-no-no-no-nooo! This- This can't be happening!_

She yanked at them, panting in pure animal fear. Struggling, long past the point she should have given in, in adrenaline fueled hysteria. All she accomplished were wrists scraped raw. She bit her lip, holding back a scream. If she let it out, her heart would break.

Deliberately, she forced herself to calm, to sit and try to think.

 _Just breathe._

The mantra came in Raphael's voice, urging her to stillness.

 _Maybe I can call Brenellean for help?_

She checked for her bracelet, but it was gone. So was her Shell-Cell. For a moment, the loss overwhelmed her. A small sob escaped, but she suppressed it and gave herself an internal pep talk.

 _Raphael will come for me anyway. He will never give up._

Still, she shook where she sat and the shuddering only increased as a familiar aura approached. She shrank back, keeping distance between herself and the traitor.

"Aw... poor little girl, shivering all alone in the dark," a voice taunted. "I'll give you a reason to shake."

A bucket of icy water hit Morgan in the face and chest knocking the breath out of her. She shot to her feet, shocked by the cold. She couldn't go far. In fact, the chain held her to the floor with a length scarcely long enough to allow her to stand.

"There she is, awake and aware at last! Lost, just like old times. Do you want to tell me all about it, sweetie?"

"Samantha," Morgan said with a gasp of disbelief. "What is going on? Why are you doing this?"

The laugh which answered her bordered on the insane.

"Why? Because of you, of course!"

"I- I don't understand. What did I do?"

Samantha's aura drew closer.

"You've always been so blind," she said with a hiss. "And I don't mean your eyesight. You never did grasp what was right in front of you."

A sharp smack rang out as a hand slapped Morgan across the face. While she was still reeling, Sam grabbed her shirt and pulled her close until they stood nose to nose.

"You replaced me," the angry blonde said in a deadly voice. "I was his queen until you came along. You and your little trick of healing stole the throne right out from under me. I had no choice but to sit by and watch you do it!"

Sam thrust Morgan away and she slipped on the wet surface. Twisting, she fell as she had been taught, relaxing and letting her larger muscles take the impact away from more fragile bones.

 _Thank you, Leonardo._

She blessed the leader's patient training as Samantha started to pace.

"You- you mean Charlie?" Morgan's voice rose in shock from where she sat on the floor. "Sam, he's a monster! He tortured me! Raped me! You think I wanted to be with him?"

"You did at first, didn't you? Told me all about how amazing it was for someone like him finally pay attention, as if you deserved it," Samantha said with venom. "It was all a lie. You were a mark, nothing more."

"I don't understand."

"The client hired him to train you. It's his _job_. If you obeyed and gave in like every other conquest, he would have lost interest. But no, little Morgan had to resist more than anyone else. Stay up all night nursing her wounds to fight again another day."

"Samantha, you know me. I've always been a fighter."

"Oh, yes..." the girl's laughter held a bitter edge. "That's part of what intrigued him. You were the sapling who could be bent but not broken. I knew he was infatuated when he began taking you to social events.

I hoped the client would become impatient and request you. When it didn't happen, I contacted him directly and insinuated Charlie's rebellion. Anything to get you out of his life, so I could take mine back. But that's when, you escaped, and I realized how truly obsessive his desire had become.

My Charlie, the old Charlie, would have cut his losses, sent the backup merchandise, and let it go." Samantha clenched her teeth and shouted her anger. "Do you know how many resources he wasted searching for you? I don't understand it! You're a pitiful excuse for a woman, but even now he can't let you go. And you couldn't resist playing the goody-two-shoes and falling into his trap."

"Samantha, I didn't _want_ to come back, but I thought my friend was in danger!"

"I was never that," Sam said. "He needed someone to monitor you, someone close you wouldn't suspect. I did what I had to do to stay in his good graces, but I was merely biding my time."

"What do you want?" Morgan asked. "I was out of your life, but you called me back."

"It's not about what I want," Samantha said with a frown. "It's about what he wants. My Charlie may be gone for good, but I can still make this one happy."

"Charlie's not-" Morgan's voice squeaked in fear. "He's not coming here, is he?"

"Oh, yes, sweetie. He most definitely is. And you will be your usual charming self when he arrives, but first you need to get all cleaned up."

The sound of rusted spigots turning and the banging of old pipes drowned out her cry of protest. With a great rush, water shot at Morgan from every direction. Icy cold when it began, it heated until it scorched her skin.

She shrieked and jumped to her feet again, tugging desperately at her chains as the water stung and burned, but she couldn't escape. Samantha laughed again, as she began to shake and cry.

"Yes, my dear. Just like old times."

* * *

 _How long has it been? Hours? Days?_

Morgan lost all track of time as Samantha took advantage of her brief interlude of power and tormented her cruelly. In the few moments she was left alone, she tried to calm her mind enough to reach out to her family, but without the focus stone she found she couldn't mentally go any further than the next few rooms.

Aurally was a different story. She once located her beloved and his brothers as far away as several blocks, but despite her concentration, she couldn't sense them now. Of course she didn't know if she was even in the same state anymore, much less the city. With no idea of the time she was unconscious, it was impossible to guess where she was. Still, she did not give up hope.

 _They're my family. They will come. Until then, I must keep searching for ways to free myself._

Thankfully, she was no longer in the water room, but this new cell wasn't any more reassuring. It was much too similar to the lushly appointed prison she occupied in Charlie's private mansion.

There was a king sized bed on the far wall, a soft rug cushioned the flagstones, and a wood burning fireplace in the corner. On her left was a table filled with things she would rather not contemplate. On her right a hot tub was sunk in the floor, its moist heat coating her skin with sweat and making her clothing stick tight.

 _Charlie must be arriving soon._

She was still confined. Even this room full of luxury had manacles and she was currently spread eagle on the wall. She heard noises and whimpered slightly as Samantha returned one more time.

"So, what do you think of the new digs?" Sam asked. "Hope they're comfy cause you're going to spend the rest of your days here. At least until Charles tires of you.

In a way, you've done me a favor. It almost makes up for all those years I had to listen to you whine. For luring you out, I'll earn my choice of rewards and I'm taking back my throne. Charlie can indulge in his precious little sex-toy, but I will regain the status and power of being the woman who sits at his side."

Morgan shuddered and tried one last time to make the girl see reason.

"Sam, why keep me here to be competition at all? Seize your chance and let me go! My friends will help me disappear and Charlie doesn't have anyone left to hold over me, so I can promise you'll never see or hear from me again."

"What kind of a fool do you take me for?" Samantha said. "You know what he does to those who disappoint him and your sudden disappearance would be quite the disappointment."

"We'll do it in a way that won't be your fault!" Morgan said in desperation. "Tell him I was killed in the abduction. "

For a moment, she thought it might work. Samantha wavered, actually seeming to consider the idea as she held her breath in anticipation. Then the girl laughed and her bubble of hope burst.

"No, my dear. That simply won't do. You see, your friends, whoever those mercenaries were, already think you died in a terrible explosion."

"What?" Morgan asked in horror.

"Oh yes," Samantha said with a grin, sensing how much this hurt. "We left a body for them to find. Of course, she's not much to look at with no face- but we gave her your little trinkets so they will come to the correct conclusions."

"No," Morgan whispered.

"How did you ever pay for such talent anyway?" Samantha asked. "They are far too good to be bought for mere coin. I bet you added some other enticements, bartered your own special services?"

The girl gave her an evil leer.

"No matter," she said when Morgan didn't rise to the bait. "No one is looking for you, my dear. They've forsaken you and limped back home to lick their wounds, so you'll just have to accept your role as sacrifice. After all, it's what you're best at!"

Samantha darted toward her and a sharp prick stung her arm. It had to be the silver serum to heal her up for Charlie's attentions. The man must be close, but for once Morgan didn't care.

Tears were already running down her cheeks. Her family thought she was dead.

 _Raphael thinks I'm gone._

She was crushed before the feeling of bubbles even began forming under her skin.

With a sob, she tensed all her muscles, still determined to fight. Balling her fists, she clamped her mouth shut, enduring the pain which swept through her bound form. Refusing to scream for the enjoyment of this insane woman she once called friend.

But the serum burned, worse than any fire, stinging every nerve until her whole body throbbed. Eventually, she couldn't hold it in any longer. With a great heave, Morgan raised her head and howled.

* * *

Leonardo held his youngest brother close and let him cry as guilt ate him alive.

 _I'm so sorry, Mikey. I should have been the one to tell you. I shouldn't have left the news report running while I went to check on father._

He sighed.

Many of his decisions lately were questionable. This was just one mistake among many.

 _I shouldn't have let Morgan go. If I had infiltrated the ambush alone or killed the man, in the beginning, she would still be here... and my family wouldn't be this fragile, broken thing._

Michelangelo sniffled into his shoulder and pulled back a little, wiping at his face.

"Did- Did Raph... make it?" he pain in his eyes said he was almost afraid of the answer.

"He's upstairs with Splinter," Leo said in a quiet voice.

Mikey gave a little sigh, then tensed again.

"Does he know?"

Leonardo winced, closing his eyes briefly and trying to block out the memory of his brother's screams. They would haunt his dreams for a long while, but at least, Michelangelo was spared that horror.

"He does."

"It was bad?"

Leo pulled Mikey into another quick hug.

"It's been a rough couple of days. I'm glad you're awake, little brother."

Michelangelo gave him a watery smile which quickly faded.

"What about Donnie? Was he hurt?"

"He's pretty broken up," Leo said with a sigh. "But he didn't get zapped like you and Raph so we've been holding down the fort."

"I didn't see him in the lab."

"I know. He went out to retrieve her."

Mikey's eyes widened.

"We can't leave her in human hands. She's got no one left to care for her remains and it might help Raphael to have a safe burial site. Somewhere to mourn."

His youngest brother's eyes filled again.

"It might help all of us."

* * *

Morgan roused slowly, feeling the ache in her bones. Somehow she had survived the serum once again. Perhaps because she hadn't been so severely injured as in times past.

For a moment, her stomach clenched in dread, but she relaxed almost involuntarily as Raphael's scent overwhelmed the air. Something large and familiar turned over in the bed next to her. Confused, she raised a hand to her forehead.

 _Samantha's twisted laugh. Hard walls of stone. Did that happen?_

All her other panic attacks, even at their worst, were moments she relived and every one of them featured Charlie. Never had she even imagined Samantha was her enemy. And the pain as the injection worked its horrible magic was worse than any memory.

If Sam wasn't a flashback then she was still tied to a wall... somewhere.

 _So what is this?_

Raphael stirred again beside her, restless. He twitched, muscles firing in an odd sequence and she frowned. Something was seriously wrong with her love. She leaned over and inhaled lightly, there was salt, copper, and something charred. Her eyes widened.

She concentrated harder, seeking his hurts and shuddered at the echo. His whole body was scorched; electrical burns scarred his bridge; an open slice oozed on his thigh; and his face was burnt and bruised. A heavy sedative ran through his system.

 _Raphael! What have they done to you?_

Anger blazed through her as her sense of his physical injuries was followed by a blast of emotional ones. He'd been screaming. His throat was raw, his eyes wet and swollen.

His heart and soul were hurting.

Instinctively, she reached out to soothe him, but her body throbbed and her arms were once again bound above her head. Held away so she could not touch him. She struggled and her back pressed against a rough stone wall.

 _I'm asleep in Samantha's cell. I'm still in captivity, yet I'm here with Raphael too._

She sensed him too well, too intensely for this to be a mere dream. It was possible there had been so much pain and despair as the serum did its work her aura had fled, seeking comfort in the safest place imaginable. Hope sprang to life in her heart.

 _I have to wake him. Convince him I'm alive so he can find me._

Though it was hard, she forced herself to relax, falling back into the dream-like state until she moved freely again. She curled on her side against his cool form, relishing the hardness and texture of his plastron, the steel and sinew of his muscles, trying to stay in the moment with him.

Praying this worked, that she wouldn't rouse him too much and lose their connection, she raised a hand and let her fingers dance across his forehead, brushing his eyelids gently. He stirred and she leaned close, whispering in his ear.

"It's time to get up, love."

He made a gentle little hum of contentment then reached out and caught her around the waist, tugging her against him.

"Let's just stay here," he murmured, nuzzling deep in her hair.

She tried not to let him distract her.

"We need to talk," she said.

"It can wait," he said with a hungry rumble that set her skin tingling. "I want you."

"I want you to, love," she said, smiling. She sighed, melting into his hug. "I can't wait to really be in your arms again."

His embrace tightened.

"These arms ain't real enough for ya?" He asked. "How about this?"

He shifted until his warm, wet mouth covered hers and she moaned, desire roaring to life. For a minute, she forgot about captivity, forgot about why she needed him to wake and lost herself in him.

Then she came crashing back to Earth.

"Raphael, I can't stay. It's not safe to sleep."

She tried to pull away, but he stubbornly held her close.

"Who said anything about sleep? Besides, I'll pummel anyone who tries to bother us."

She sat up, determined to regain his attention and straddled his center. She raised his hands to her lips and kissed them tenderly.

"That's my hot-head," she said, "always thinking with his fists."

"I'll be thinkin' with somethin' else if ya keep that up," he said and opened his eyes.

 _NO!_

It was a mistake she could not correct. Their connection, already tenuous, couldn't take such a dose of reality. Something began pulling her away, forcing her back to the cell and the wall. She'd waited too long, been too distracted by his presence to tell him the most important thing.

"Stop!" she cried as if a vocal protest would somehow make the pull cease. "I haven't told him, I'm still here!"

She tried to cling to him, heard him yell, felt the agony in his voice tear at her heart.

"Morgan!" He begged. "Don't leave me!"

She had one last breath to tell him how to find her, but she could only think of one way. Her brother, Brenellean, had tracked her down once before, perhaps his Huntress might locate her again.

 _How can he reach Brenna?_

Then she remembered. Sam had said they left her 'trinkets' behind, so he either had her bracelet or could get his hands on it. In a last desperate effort, she called out a reminder as loud as she could, but it came out a whisper.

 _"Always your angel!"_

* * *

Leonardo laid a sympathetic palm on Mikey's shoulder and was about to ask if there was anything else he could do to ease his younger brother's grief when a shout rang out from upstairs.

Raphael was awake.

Last time he opened his eyes, he destroyed everything in his room. If he got past Splinter, the rest of the lair was at risk. Leo dropped his arm and bolted to his father's aid, literally climbing the walls to reach the balcony faster. Mikey trailed right behind him. They burst into Raph's room to see their sensei standing as tall as he could, trying to block the door without hurting his son.

"Calm yourself," Splinter said. "There is nothing to be done. This high state of anxiety will not help you, physically or emotionally."

Raphael didn't hear a word. His eyes were huge, his face pale as he darted to either side, hoping to get past. Leo and Mikey flanked their father, keeping him pinned in. When he couldn't escape, he tried convincing them, but his voice was entirely unlike its usual gruff self. The urgent words ran together in sentences that were hard to make out.

"I need to talk to Donnie," Raphael said. "Morgan's still out there and I think we might be able to trace her if we start with her Shell-Cell."

Michelangelo and Leonardo exchanged a sad glance.

"We have been over this, my son," Splinter said with a gentle sigh, laying a calming paw on Raph's arm. "Morgan is not missing. We know where she is. Donatello is retrieving her for us."

That got through or, at least, made him pause.

"What?" Desperate confusion and hope lit his eyes.

"Raph," Leo said with caution, "Donnie went to the morgue and is bringing her back for burial. But you probably don't want to see. It's better if you remember her the way she was, beautiful and full of life."

Anger flamed so brightly in his brother's amber gaze that Leonardo took a half step back.

"Morgan is ALIVE! She came to me just now. SHE. NEEDS. HELP!"

"Perhaps it was a dream," his father said, "Or a spirit visitation. The Feyian are, in a way, immortal. If she possesses an afterlife I am certain she will come to you for many years. She cared for you very much."

"NO!" Raph shouted. "She's out there. Alive!"

"Raph-"

Mikey opened his mouth to reason with his brother but he was distracted as his phone began to vibrate furiously. In fact, everyone's was ringing, even Splinter's. There was a moment of confusion, as they each checked the ID.

 _Donatello._

They picked up the conferenced call as one.

"Guys," Donnie's voice sounded odd. He was laughing, crying, and gasping for breath all at once. "You'll never believe it."

"What?" Leo answered for them as he exchanged a worried look with their father.

"It's not her."

Don paused to let that sink in.

 _Has he gone over the edge as well? That was a grenade. You don't survive a close encounter with such an explosive, even if you are only half human._

"Do you understand? I'm at the morgue. This body isn't her. I don't know who it is, poor girl. She has the bracelet and the focus stone, but she isn't our Morgan!"

"What?" The leader asked again, too stunned to come up with another word.

"It's not her," Donnie insisted. "I've run the blood type and it's AB+. Morgan's never resolved to anything recognizable on the test chart. I checked the cells and their all 100% human, no sign of unique DNA. Furthermore, there's a brand on the right hip but Morgan's is gone. It disappeared when she and Raph got together."

They all looked at Raphael and he nodded, eyes a little wild.

"Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make us think this is her," Don said, "but it's not.

They faked Morgan's death!"

* * *

Everyone was talking at once. Their voices growing louder as excitement filled the room.

"How do you think they..."

"Oh my god..."

"So, now what do we do?"

"Where could she be?"

"A plan must be made..."

"We've lost two days!"

Leonardo held up a hand and years of training kicked in. Everyone fell silent.

"Donnie," Leo ordered. "Clean up there and get back here as quick as you can."

The genius agreed and hung up.

"Mikey, call Leatherhead and get him to meet us. We're all injured and tired and we're going to need more brainpower and manpower. Raph, what did Morgan do in your dream?"

Raphael flushed a deep green and Leo snorted.

"What did she say that was relevant and repeatable?" he amended.

"She said 'I can't stay. It's not safe to sleep'," Raph repeated. His brow furrowed as he fought through the pain of her disappearing to remember the rest. "She also said 'I'm still here.'"

"So, she can only reach you in her sleep and they are tormenting her with her so-called death," Splinter said. "Trying to convince her we aren't coming."

"Well they're wrong!" Mikey exclaimed punching Leatherhead's number into his phone.

"Raph, what were you thinking with the Shell-Cell?" Leo asked.

"They either took it from her or she lost it in the explosion, but I figure Don can track it to wherever it is and it'll be a starting point for locating her. We need to get Brenellean and his Huntress there, Morgan implied they may be able to help."

"I will contact the Feyian as soon as Donatello returns with the stone," their master said. He rested a gentle touch on Raphael's arm. "I am sorry I did not believe you, my son. "

Raphael covered the paw with his hand. "Let's just go get her."


	38. Brave

**Brave**

 _In a split second, everything can change._

One moment Morgan was safe, adored, and resting in the arms of her love. The next she was at the mercy of her greatest enemy. For when she roused, Charlie's loathsome aura stood right in front of her.

"Where were you?"

She recoiled violently from the vicious demand and pain exploded behind her eyes as she struck her head against the wall. Dazed by the blow, she feared Charlie knew where she'd been, despite the question. But... He had no idea of her powers or heritage. He must be referring to her earlier escape and subsequent disappearing act. She wasn't going to tell him about either.

Chillingly, he smiled at her silence.

"So. You do remember some of the rules."

 _He thinks I'm giving in?_

Morgan tensed in agitation before deciding it was for the best. Let him think her cowed, it might give her more openings for escape. She forcibly relaxed, preparing for whatever he might throw at her. But Charlie, like the devil he was, began his torment with words and a caress.

His fingers pushed back the wild, matted mane of her hair and fondled her cheek as his gaze traveled avidly over her from head to toe. She suppressed a shudder of pure revulsion.

"Freedom becomes you, darling. It's given you a glorious glow. Or is there another reason? I've heard some rather disturbing rumors. Scandalous whispers you might be dreaming of another. Perhaps one of your monstrous protectors?"

He chuckled condescendingly between his teeth at the notion.

Morgan turned her face sharply away as an angry flush stained her cheeks, totally unequipped to deal with this new emotion suffusing her bound form. Even suffering under his worst ministrations, she never felt like this. This anger, this FURY, vibrated through her, rising from deep inside. She panted and clenched her tiny fists as her whole body shook and overheated. She wanted to rip her arms from the wall and strangle the man.

"They are animals, are they not? Turtles? Julia met one you know. Said he was the most horrendous, hulking, ugly, green brute she'd ever seen."

 _Raphael is more man than you'll ever be! YOU are the monster!_

She bit her cheek to keep from screaming it aloud. No use in providing the vile man with any more ammunition. Charlie tainted every other portion of her life. She didn't want him speaking about her friends or guessing at her relationships. Though it was difficult, she remained silent. Not giving him the satisfaction of confirmation.

He would not be deterred. If she would not speak, he would take his answers another way. She squirmed as he reached for her, yet nothing she could do would stop him. Spread eagle as she was, she couldn't escape or fight back. She sagged in the restraints, wrists protesting the pull of her weight, as her fury melted into despair.

An inner voice snapped her out of it.

Raphael's deep and soothing rumble vibrated through her memory, making her tingle. He'd held her close right before they left the lair to save her one-time friend, and spoke low in her ear.

 _"If anything should happen... remember there's always choices, options. Fight or flee, defend or hide, even kill if you must. I won't judge." He pulled back and shook her shoulders gently, staring fiercely into her face. "Promise me you'll do everything ya can to stay safe, to stay alive." He leaned close and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "No matter what. Stay alive and I will come for you."_

She promised. How could she not? His voice was breaking as if she were already gone. But she hadn't been sure she could follow through. She'd always been a fighter, but she tended to use her words and will as weapons. Physical violence seemed absent from her makeup. Something which always happened to her not erupted from her.

She may doubt herself, but she believed in him. He would come. With her brothers, her father, her Feyian family or alone. He would rescue her. Justice would be served. And soon. For now, she had to survive.

 _What ARE my options?_

Splinter taught her to distance her mind. Mentally, she could leave this place, choose not to 'see' what he was doing or acknowledge how much it hurt, knowing the bastard enjoyed her helplessness. She could use this time to plan.

 _Maybe discover my location?_

As Charlie took hold of the waistband of her jeans and unfastened the top button, she ignored him. Tuning him out and concentrating instead on everything else around her. The sounds and scents of the outside world were few, but she detected running water and a distinct smell.

 _A small stream? Moss? Mildew?_

Charlie deliberately slowed as he undid the next button and the next of her button-flys, waiting with obvious anticipation for her fear to surface. But her senses were in the hall tapping into the memories of the six men standing guard outside the door. Mostly they listened as the bastard spoke to her and smile lasciviously, their thoughts rather disgusting. One was hoping to be invited to the observation chamber.

 _Perverts._

The last, however, held a picture in his mind. A granite tower rising alone above the city. Like something out of a fairytale, it seemed attached to a long bridge type structure stretching off into the distance. She didn't recognize the landmark, but surely it would help her family locate her if she made contact with her love again.

Unfortunately, there was only so much she could ignore. When Charlie slid a hand into her pants and dragged a rough finger over the crotch of her panties, she returned to herself and twisted in loathing. The pure egotism of the action rousing her ire again.

His aura pulsed from smug satisfaction to rage in an instant when he felt the wet residue of her few moments with Raphael.

"Morgan," he snarled, drawing back in shock, "I'm so disappointed. How could you break such a cardinal rule? First you abandon me, throwing away everything I offered. Now you've betrayed me as well! Lusting after a beast!"

Coarsely, he inhaled her scent, licking it from his fingers before roughly grabbing her hair. His smile was back, but it was cruel, growing darker as he yanked her head to the side and breathed heavily into her face.

She winced, turning away from him as much as she was able and closed her eyes. More so he wouldn't see the violent fire burning there than from shame. Her thoughts shocked her far more than his actions. She wanted his blood. Imagined what it would feel like as her nails raked across his face- leaving hot liquid welling up behind.

 _Raphael is going to kill you. And I won't stop him._

"Did you tell him about us? Explain how you lay under me for years in submission, begging for more? You belong to ME," he said, inches from her face. "It's the way things are, how it's always meant to be."

 _I'm not yours. Not then, not now. Never._

His mood swung again from unbridled jealousy to smirking pride at her continued silence. She felt it in the way he held her. He released her snarled tresses, twined his fingers over her fists and pressed himself up against her.

"Perhaps he took you by force. Was he brutal, my darling? Did you enjoy it? Your body says so. That's bestiality, you little minx!"

Charlie's voice cried foul, but the hard on pressed to her thigh spoke to his arousal. She knew, all too well, rape turned him on. He used to order other girls, innocents, callously taken in front of him while he amused himself with her in the bed. Their screams and appeals for mercy drove him to sexual highs while she turned cold and sick under him.

The blood drained from her face at the memory, leaving her white as a sheet.

"How else were you to get your fix?" He crooned. "No man's touch would stir you after me. Poor little Morgan! Such an addict you'll take whatever you can get."

He let one hand drift to the front of her hoodie, drawing down the zipper. Sam had not graced her with a bra after her unscheduled shower and Charlie leered as he exposed her bare breasts.

"I can help," he whispered as if trying to seduce her. "Let me give you a moment's respite from the hunger."

* * *

"How did she survive this?"

The crocodile's words burst from him in shock as Leatherhead gazed around the crater of blackened destruction. The tracking device implanted in Morgan's Shell-Cell led back to the scene of the battle, and it was worse than what they showed on the news.

Michelangelo swallowed hard to force down the bile rising in his throat. The once solid concrete was reduced to dust, steel twisted into ghastly shapes. The entire plot of land stank of dried blood, sulfur, and death.

"Even one partly immortal would be severely damaged," the scientist said, in awe of the destruction.

"I should have seen it sooner," Donatello said, guilt tainting his voice. "It was an elaborate ruse. They had weeks to prepare this little magic show."

"We were all distracted," Leonardo said, but Donnie shook his head and pointed to several hotspots showing dramatically in red on the scanning pad in front of him.

"The whole area was rigged with explosives," he said. "The grenade was a flash bomb, the equivalent of a magician's assistant distracting the audience. It blinded us and as we braced for impact, they abducted Morgan, placed their Jane Doe, and set off the hidden charges. It was just bad luck Raph was standing practically on top of one of them."

The turtle in question shot him a dark look.

"But how did they escape?" Michelangelo asked.

"My guess? They took her underground. The tracker is still functioning so her cell must have dropped in a tunnel," Don said with a shrug. "If it was up here, it would be destroyed."

"This seems overly complex for one of the Shredder's schemes," the crocodile said. "He is usually about as subtle as a hammer."

"It ain't Shred-head's doing for once," Raphael said with a growl. "At least not this part. It had ta be that soon-to-be-nothin-but-a-bloody-pulp Charlie."

"But hundreds of Foot soldiers attacked," Leatherhead protested.

"They were a distraction," Leonardo said, "intended to be a small support garrison. The Shredder assumed we would all turn out to protect Morgan, so he increased the numbers."

Donnie looked at him sideways but didn't question the source of the leader's information.

"So we're searching for an underground entrance?" Michelangelo asked, poking at a pile of unknown ashes with a stick. "Finding it could take days! Lil' sis doesn't have that kind of time. And dawn's only a few hours out."

"The opening they used to extract her is probably buried," Donnie said, "but this was a low-tide warehouse so I bet the tunnel was one of the water level loading docks. We'll go to the river's edge and backtrack."

"Does that mean they took her out via boat?" Leo asked. "Can we track her over water?"

"Not necessarily," Don said. "These warehouses all connect to each other. They might have used another one to house a getaway vehicle."

"Land or water does not matter," a low, angry voice exclaimed out of the darkness. "For we will not be following her physical scent."

The brother's spun, drawing weapons. Leatherhead leapt to Raphael's side as the red-banded warrior wobbled. But Master Splinter stood calmly as the tall, lanky Feyian appeared from a hidden rift to stand beside him.

To say Brenellean was upset by Morgan's situation was an understatement. His eyes burned with crimson fire, glowing demon bright in the blackness of the demolished warehouse. His sharpened teeth gleamed as he bared them. He wore a lightweight suit of flexible armor, which glinted greenly in the moonlight, and was armed with so many weapons he bristled.

Michelangelo couldn't help but stare. Brenellean was a one elf army, a dream video game hero come to life. The Feyian raised a glowing hand and the fabric of dimensions split again, allowing a large, canine form to slink through. She sniffed the air and howled, red fur rising on her ruff in consternation.

 _:There is death here,:_ the Huntress growled, _:And Feyian blood! What happened to my mistress?:_

She glared accusingly at Raphael with slightly demented orange eyes and snapped her jaws in a muted bark.

 _:You- her Match- did you not protect her?:_

Raph sheathed his sai and stepped forward.

"I killed many in her defense. But she was taken by overwhelming force! Will you help me?"

Brenellean gasped.

"You can hear the Huntress speak?"

"She made herself pretty clear," the hot-head said holding eye contact with the oversized fox.

The Feyian turned startled eyes on her and she gave a little shrug which traveled from her forequarters completely down her back in a rippling of fur.

 _:She melded with him, mind and spirit. His thoughts are clearer now, stronger.:_

"Guys, catch up later!" Mikey interrupted. "Morgan needs us now!"

 _:The pup is right. Let us proceed to the tunnels. I will do my best to trace her.:_

* * *

Raphael seethed inwardly as they jogged through the corridor at a ground devouring trot, following the elusive shadow fox. The Huntress moved swiftly, certain of her way. Guided by a presence only she could sense. He wished he could feel it too, or simply reach her aura. It would be a comfort to know she was still alive. But would it help if he could speak to his angel?

 _Even if she could hold contact while awake, how can she direct me to a place she can't see?_

He had no answer for that.

It burned him to ask for assistance, to admit he couldn't save her. But he was weakened, injured physically and emotionally. Lost in his own dark imaginings for two whole days while she was out there suffering. The Feyian were his only option and he prayed they were enough.

 _I promised she'd never be alone. I promised her so many things... I told her she'd never have to face Charlie, that she'd never be at the bastard's mercy again. I swore I'd kill him for what he did. I said I'd keep her safe. And she believed me._

Now he was dragging his broken body through unfamiliar tunnels, risking the lives of his family, in a desperate effort to redeem himself for the breaking of each and every one of those vows. The horrible weight of unfulfilled responsibility pressed down on him, despite the fact he knew she would forgive him instantly.

 _My angel could forgive the devil himself._

Raphael couldn't. Those responsible for this mess were going to pay. Charlie was going down- with as much pain as Raph could manage- along with anyone who helped him.

He grunted as an agonizing spasm ripped through his side. It caused him to slow for a few steps and he cursed. They'd traveled miles from the warehouse and his little remaining strength was draining away. At this rate, he'd be lucky to have enough energy left to slap the bastard when they arrived. But he pressed on. He didn't want to cause delay.

Donnie eyed him from further up and he glared back. The genius hadn't wanted him to come on this escapade, injured as he was, but no one dared to stop him. Not after the agony of the last few days. He increased his pace again, trying not to limp too much.

As he loped along, forcing back the fear, the weakness, and the pain; a new type of discomfort intruded. His head already hurt, but the tight ache creeping up the back of his neck was something else. Something almost familiar. His eyes widened in alarm and all his muscles tensed as, light-headed, he abruptly staggered to a stop.

Leaning wearily on the wall of the passageway, he tried to catch his breath.

"Raph?" Donatello appeared at his side. "Are you okay?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Instead, he held up a hand, listening intently. His own harsh breathing echoed in his ears, but underneath it, he heard a heartbeat, followed by another. For a short time, the two remained separate, but with each throb, they drew closer together. At last, they melded into one intense sound.

His thoughts twisted and his eyes turned white with rage as Morgan reached him, screaming in the depths of her soul.

Raphael threw back his head and bared his teeth like a ravening beast.

"Hargrove!" He roared. "Don't you touch her!"

* * *

Charlie _was_ touching her. He was most definitely touching her.

He took her down from the wall, twisting her arm painfully behind her back and thrust her across the room. She struggled, trying to remember the appropriate counter move from her training with Leonardo, but she was so frantic her mind blanked. She bit her lip and tasted blood, striving not to dissolve into a fit of screaming. He pushed her hard and she fell face first into something soft. She never despised a pillow so much in her life.

Charlie flipped her to her back on the bed as she tried to regain her bearings. A metallic click and the rattle of heavy chain made her heart sink as he clasped a new restraint around her already raw right wrist.

"Just in case, darling," he said. "Wouldn't want you to turn escape into a habit."

She attempted to shift out of his grip, but he used his weight to smother her attempt, holding her bound arm above her head and dropping his face once again to her exposed front. He licked his lips and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

The feel of his skin, the overpowering scent of his cologne, the weight of his body; revolted her.

"I will have to reclaim you, Morgan," he said between licks, voice husky with lust. "I'm sure you remember how this goes. You will accept me, welcome me... And I will not be satisfied until you beg me to take you, anywhere and everywhere I please.

You will forget your beast man and stir only to _my_ call, _my_ caress."

He emphasized each point with a bite to her tender flesh and she shuddered as he dragged his nails across her stomach. When he slid a hand between her legs, she bucked and fought.

 _No! I can't… Not again! Help me! Raph! RAPHAEL!_

He twitched his fingers, stroking her, and she writhed. She twisted her head, snapping her teeth at his arm, but it was just out of reach.

"Ah-ah, that's not the way this works," he taunted.

His fingers probed inside her and she hissed in agony as he crooked them bringing his nails to bare. Morgan clenched her jaw to hold back a shriek, breathing slowly to diffuse the pain.

And yet again, she experienced a split second of change.

Raphael's enraged aura flowed over her, clearing her mind and reigniting her hatred. The sharp outlines of the rest of her family followed. They were close, perhaps mere blocks away, and moving fast. Desperately, she pushed all she had learned to him: the tower, the water, the scent of green, and the guards she sensed.

Then she smiled toothily into the face of her captor and spoke for the first time since he began his assault.

"You are dead meat."

* * *

"Raph, RAPHAEL!"

Leo was pinning his shoulders to the wall. Shouting his name inches from his face.

When his eyes focused, he realized the others all stared at him, panting. The stretch of tunnel they stood in was unfamiliar. The moment she touched him, he must have pelted off down the corridor at top speed. Racing to be at her side. If he hadn't been injured, there was no way his brother could have caught him.

"Where is she Raph?" Leonardo demanded, seeing sense in his eyes once more and sensing Morgan passed on vital information.

"Get offa me!" Raphael shouted, heaving against his brother's grip. "He's hurtin' her!"

The gleam in Leo's eyes said he wasn't going to be freed until he spoke up.

"North and west," Raph said with an aggressive growl. "In some sorta strange lookin' tower."

"Strange looking?" Donatello asked, lending his weight by leaning on one of Raph's arms.

"Pale. Granite. Tall," Raph panted, struggling. Leo gritted his teeth and held on. "Pointed- like somethin' outta Rapunzel. I ain't never seen it before."

"A fairy-tale skyscraper in New York City?" Mikey asked, rubbing the back of his head.

Don's eyes clouded as he sifted through the possibilities.

"Anything else?" he prompted as the leader grunted against his brother's renewed strength.

"Water," Raph added. "A green smell kinda like the old aqueduct."

"Aqueduct?"

Donnie's vast memory honed in on the answer and he snapped his fingers. "High Bridge Water Tower on 173rd street." He abandoned his hold on Raphael to dig in his duffel for the tablet, pulling up a satellite view of the location.

"A park?" Mikey asked, looking over his shoulder as the others crowded around.

"Hiding in plain sight," Leonardo said.

"It's just a tower next to a pool," Michelangelo said pointing. "Not much of a hideout."

"It's closed to the public," Donatello said, reviewing what he knew. "On the historical register. Not many are allowed inside. It's hardly big enough to house the kind of facilities Hargrove is likely to utilize.

Underneath it, though, is another story. The tower was built in 1872 to equalize water pressure flowing into the city, so a large reservoir was dug under it to hold the river until it could be pumped to the top. It hasn't been used since the 60's and, last I heard, some shell company bought the rights to drain and convert it to a warehouse."

"That has to be where he's holding her," Leo said.

"Let's quit gabbing and go!" Raphael said, pushing against him frantically. "The bastard's violatin' her!"

Leonardo's eyes hardened to crystalline blue rocks.

"We'll stop him, Raph, but we can't burst in there without a strategy. This guy is too clever. He's taken her away from us twice and I'm not letting it happen again."

"What's our point of entry?" He asked Don.

"It'll take too long to find the underground connections. Our best bet is the front door of the tower."

"And to reach it?"

"I've got sewer tunnels mapped to the edge of the park, then it's about 300 feet of open ground topside, across a paved lot to the door."

"Lighting?"

"Yeah, multiples. It's city parking."

Leo grunted. "They'll see us coming."

"I'll remove any guards between the tunnel and the door." Brenellean had remained so silent, they almost forgot the Feyian was there. He smiled viciously, revealing his pointed teeth. "I can go through Shadow and come out right next to them."

"Alright," Leo said. "We keep to the tunnels until we hit the green. Don will handle the city security cameras. Brenellean will take the guards. Everyone stay low and watch your six. We've underestimated Hargrove too many times.

Morgan is our priority, but... that snake isn't leaving, unless it's in a body bag."

He met each of their eyes before he turned to Raphael and released him.

"Lead on."

* * *

Karai stood at the edge of the park and regarded the open space spread before her suspiciously. The GPS tracking unit her Foot soldiers installed on Hargrove's limo said it had pulled into this public park an hour ago and... stopped.

He had to be in there but she couldn't imagine where. The satellite imagery showed grass, a pool, a baseball diamond, and a walking path surrounded by trees.

She raised a hand and closed her fist. Five silent, black-clad warriors appeared at her side.

"Our enemy has gone to ground somewhere in this park," she murmured, voice barely audible above the whisper of the breeze. "There are few buildings, but he is too smart to be caught in the open. Scour it. Search for anything secretive. If you find something, report to me immediately."

She met each of their eyes seriously. These were her top recruits, ones she knew were absolutely loyal to her and her alone. They better be, or she would never survive giving this next order, for it countermanded a standing command from the Shredder himself.

"If you encounter the Turtles or any of their known associates do NOT engage. Am I clear?"

They bowed and she opened her palm. They scattered like wraiths.

She moved to the nearest tree, scaling it effortlessly to gain a higher perspective. From this vantage the park was picturesque. A large decorative spire stood in the center, rising to pierce the moon.

 _The tower._

Her blood chilled when she saw it. Goosebumps rose on her forearms. Too small to be an effective hiding place, it might mark the entrance to one. With that goal in mind, she began to slip from one tree to the next.

* * *

Assaulting a strange fortress, with no previous infiltration or scouting runs, is a risky business.

Michelangelo knew this from hours of gaming experience. There were probably a host of unknowns waiting to trip them up, everything from hordes of guards to booby traps. Maybe even the undead.

In the past, he wouldn't have added that last one to their real life escapades. At least, not out loud, but if elves were real then there was no telling what else might be lurking.

However, there were no men posted on the door by the time the Hamato clan crossed the paved lot at a run. Only the remains of them. Two assault rifles lay discarded next to several large splashes of red. A single boot stood upright, leaning at an unnatural angle, against the wall.

Mikey was pretty sure there was still a foot in there. He shuddered as Brenellean stepped out of the dark on the near side of the structure, a trickle of blood on his lips. The Huntress paced threateningly at his side.

 _He is one bad ass dude. Glad he's on our team._

"Any trouble?" Leonardo asked.

The Feyian shook his head.

"There were six. They will not bother us further."

Leo nodded, drew his sword, and reached for the door. Raphael beat him to it, slamming into the aged wood with his whole body. It gave with a heavy thud and scraped across the stones with a defiant shriek. Leonardo glared darkly at his sibling, but let the irritation pass unremarked.

The interior was one tight circular stair winding up and down. Below a flickering light drew their gaze and Leo began to descend.

Two minutes.

Three.

Mikey fidgeted behind Donatello and Splinter laid a calming hand on his shell. The longer they remained on the stairs the greater the chance of discovery. A fight here would be disastrous. There was no room to swing a weapon, but rushing could lead them headlong into a trap.

They finally reached a floor several stories underground and spread out. A knife flew from the shadows, shattering the flickering neon lamp and plunging them all into darkness. Leonardo quietly cursed Raphael's impatience but surged forward into the proffered black nevertheless to check the open archway in front of them.

He cursed again, this time aloud. In seconds, his family surrounded him, peering out to assess the problem for themselves.

They stood on the rim of a huge room, almost an amphitheater. Fifteen doors spread evenly around the perimeter and massively armed humans streamed from each, gathering into an intimidating force in the center below.

"Think they know we're here?" Mikey asked.

"No," Donnie answered, "or they'd be heading in our direction. Something's got them riled, though."

"Anyone able to pinpoint where Morgan is?" The leader asked.

 _:Her presence permeates this space. I cannot guide you further,:_ the Huntress said.

"Somewhere in that quadrant," Raph replied, waving vaguely to the north and west.

"There's no way we can hold this room," Don commented, "too many doors. We'll have to pass through and finds someplace more secure."

"So how do we know where to go?" Mikey asked.

"Suggestions?" Leo said.

Raphael offered the first thought in his head.

"The tunnels are narrow enough for one to hold. We move in stealth to the five over there." He pointed at the doors across the way. "We split up, search for Morgan, and defend the shaft if we have too."

"It would be better with a distraction to draw them to the other side," Donnie said.

"The Huntress and I will provide what chaos we may," Brenellean said.

"An' I can hold off a great many," Leatherhead put in.

Leo shook his head, eyeing his brother appraisingly. Raphael was too injured to travel alone and all too likely to forget about the fact when faced with Morgan's captors. He exchanged a weighted glance with Master Splinter, who answered with a tilt of his head. Their father had his eye on the stubborn, vulnerable hot-head, and would keep him out of trouble.

It lifted a tremendous weight off Leonardo's chest and his mind started moving again.

"Three against seventy-five?" Mikey said incredulously.

"With more on the way," Don said, checking the closed circuit cameras on his tablet.

"We don't have enough people for an effective distraction," Leo said.

"Shoulda brought Casey and April," Raph said.

"You kidding dude? Against those mercenaries?" Mikey objected. "They look like they're preparing for world war three."

Raphael wasn't listening. Getting to Morgan was the only thing he could focus on. He eased his way out the door.

A shout rang out from the floor and the soldiers' raised their weapons.

Leo tensed, fearing they had been spotted, but the guns weren't pointed in their direction. Instead, the stream of humanity rushed to the opposite side of the hall, creating an opening around their chosen doors. He wondered briefly at the cause, but they weren't likely to get such a chance again. He gave the order to move.

"Let's go!" Leonardo commanded. "I'll take the first tunnel, Donnie the second, Mikey the third. Raph, you've got number four. Leatherhead, five. Brenellean and the Huntress will bring up the rear. Only engage if it becomes necessary."

As one, they surged through the shadows toward the dark tunnels waiting on the other side.

* * *

Charlie ground his teeth as a heavy pounding on the door disrupted the culture of fear he was trying to induce on the woman lying powerless in his grasp. It wasn't working. Morgan was farther from submission than ever. She glared up at him and smiled with more maliciousness than he'd previously seen on her pretty little face.

It was arousing because it was so new, yet also profoundly disturbing.

 _Must I always be interrupted with her?_

"What?" he demanded over his shoulder.

"Mr. Hargrove! There's been a breach!"

"Then take care of it!" Charlie snapped. "Report to the Captain. It's what I pay him for."

"Sir!" the unseen soldier said. "It's Karai and the Foot! She's secured the entire east wing! The Captain wants to know what you wish to do."

Charlie drew back from the bed, strode to the door, and threw it open.

"I wish to be left alone with my conquest!" He yelled. "Tell the captain to route the girl himself and bring in more men. We'll move on the rest of the Foot Clan shortly. Until then, I'm to be left undisturbed unless I specifically call for you. Understood?"

The man saluted shakily and trotted off down the corridor.

"Now," Charlie turned back to the girl with a forced smile. "Where were we?"

The sneer slid from his face as his eyes swept the room. Morgan was gone. Not so much as a divot remained in the covers. His shocked gaze traced the chain from the wall to the empty manacle resting against the edge of the mattress. It was still closed, but somehow she managed to slip out of it.

She must be in the room. There was only one door and no one had passed him to the hall. His smile grew a little wider.

The chase was on.


	39. Wrath and Retribution

**A/N:** This is it. The final chapter... It's been quite the journey. Thanks for taking it with me.

~Shadow

 **Wrath and Retribution**

"I can't... believe... the rest of you... aren't... facing... this much... resistance!"

Donatello's irritated voice burned its way through the headset to his brothers throughout the complex, broken into brief bursts as he paused to return the strikes of multiple opponents. The others reported minimal encounters, but he ran into at least two, sometimes as many as five guards at each intersection.

"You must be on the right path," Leonardo replied. "I'm not seeing anything over here. Not even any lights. Everybody backtrack to his location."

Don removed the last man with a calculated series of blows and swept his bo through the dirt to sketch an elaborate symbol on the wall. To anyone else, it would appear to be a random collection of dirty smudges but the Hamato family read them easily.

He marked his selection at every crossroad, not only to guide his brothers in but also to show him the way out, for the place was a warren of tunnels. Full of nooks, dead ends, and hiding places.

"I've drawn the usual symbols," Don said. "Should be easy enough to find."

"Or we could just... follow the bodies," Michelangelo quipped.

Static and shouting drew Donnie's attention and he plucked the squawking radio off the belt of his latest casualty. He listened as a frantic captain ordered his troops on the far side of the complex to cut off a group of... Foot soldiers?

Deciphering the man's shortened jargon, Don's jaw dropped in shock. Their unknown assistant- drawing off the mercenaries -was none other than Karai herself.

 _What the heck is she doing here?_

He shelved the thought for later perusal and refocused on the tunnel in front of him. If he was heading in the right direction Morgan needed him to hurry. There was no telling what terrible damage Hargrove had already done.

 _I'm coming, sweetie. Hold on..._

He eased himself along the hall, footsteps and breathing silent, weapon at the ready. He didn't have to travel much farther. A light flickered ahead and six burly guards stood outside a barred wooden door.

 _This must be the place!_

He pushed a button on a device at his belt and a short EMP burst turned out the lights. In the complete and unexpected black, the two-hundred-pound adversaries might as well have been toddlers. They cringed away from his dark laugh and were cleared in seconds.

With a flip of his hand he unbarred the door.

* * *

Morgan swallowed hard and remained absolutely motionless so the chain connected to her wrist wouldn't rattle and give her away.

The moment Charlie left, yelling loud enough to cover her movements, she rolled off the side of the bed and wrapped herself in the 'fabric' of the space. Her little trick of invisibility hadn't been an option before, his curious hand would have found her still attached to the wall, but with luck Charlie would spend the next twenty minutes thinking she'd slipped the cuff and search the room for her.

By the time he discovered her ruse, it would be too late.

 _Right now I'll take any interruption. Hell, if Karai pokes her head in I'll cheer._

Cautiously, she pushed her aura out again. Her family was here, inside the complex walls. They were no longer bunched together, but spread out in a fan like configuration, pointed in slightly the wrong directions. She reached for Raphael to redirect them when a shriek from outside the door made her pause.

The shouting in the hall, followed by several heavy thumps drew Charlie's searching gaze as well. He quickly took a pair of knives from the table, tucking one into the waistband of his trousers as he backed away from the entrance.

It wasn't the Foot's second-in-command who approached her door.

Weeks in the dojo as the brothers worked alongside her taught her the specific acoustics of each individual. Weapons spun and whirled in precise rhythms. Fists moved to definitive beats. She could identify them anywhere, even if she hadn't recognized his distinct aura. Morgan knew those sounds too intimately to be mistaken.

Donatello stood poised on the other side of the door.

* * *

The room Don entered was dimly lit and reminded him of a bordello from a late night, 'B' rated vampire movie. A huge bed, bedecked in red centered the space. A hot tub bubbled in the corner and a fire burned on the hearth.

At first scan, it was empty. No Hargrove and, worse yet, no Morgan.

A figure creeping stealthily in the back caught his eye and he lowered himself into a crouch to block the exit. When it became clear Donnie wasn't going to move, the person stepped into the circle of firelight.

Tall, slender, and well built, the man didn't resemble the average thug. He sported a sharp haircut, a carefully manicured Van Dyke beard, and expensive clothes.

His air was one of an aristocrat interrupted while doing something important. Apparently he wasn't bothered at all by the inhuman nature of said interruption. Donnie recognized the businessman from his news photos and couldn't stop a growl from leaping to his throat.

"Hargrove," he demanded. "Where is she?"

A second review revealed no sign of her person, though from the sex toys and torturous equipment gathered on the table, this was definitely Charlie's playroom. There was even a glassed in balcony for observers.

Nausea gripped his stomach and he shot the twisted man a dangerous glare.

"So, her lover returns for her," Charlie said.

Donatello laughed menacingly.

"If I was him, you would be missing your arms right about now. He has a penchant for ripping off things which offend him."

Donnie spoke purely to buy time for the others to arrive. He could easily take this one puny man but Raphael would want to be here. And he still hadn't located Morgan. She must be in this room. Raph said Hargrove was abusing her and he was unlikely to leave his hostage.

"Honestly, I thought her 'unfortunate demise' would hold for longer than this," Charlie said. "How did you figure it out?"

Don's eyes flicked back to the businessman.

"It was a solid plan, I'll give you that," he said. "You would have fooled a casual observer. But despite all you think you know, nothing you did deceived us for more than a moment."

"Why?"

The question hung in the air, an inquiry forced out with a kind of sick curiosity. The 'A' student demanding an explanation for why he failed.

"Because you _don't_ know her."

"Oh, and you do?" Charlie said with a sneer. "I _possessed_ the woman for years. I know her in the biblical sense. What is she to you?"

Donatello's eyes were deadly.

"She's family."

Don whirled his staff as his gaze again darted about. He didn't wish to delay Morgan's escape too much. The poor girl waited long enough and she might be injured. Abruptly it dawned on him.

 _She's made herself invisible!_

He examined the space with new eyes, searching for hints of her mass. The four manacles on the wall stood open though they were coated in fresh blood. She had been confined there recently. His fists clenched the wood of his bo so hard the staff vibrated as he tore his eyes away.

The hot tub showed no disturbance in its bubbly surface. The bed was somewhat rumpled and a chain stretched across it. The fetter resting on the covers was closed. His eyes narrowed, imagining an invisible wrist still caught in the restraint as she knelt by the side of the mattress. He glanced away and addressed the room at large so as not to give her position away.

"Morgan, sweetie," he said, as gentle as he could in such a rage. "Stay where you are. You're safe. The others will be here soon and I'll escort you out."

Charlie's forced laughter almost drowned out the subtle clink of the chain, but Donatello caught it. He was right, she was still wearing the manacle.

"You think she's here?" The businessman bluffed. "Where would I hide her? If you harm me, you'll never find her. Let me leave and I'll tell you where she is."

"No chance," Don said through gritted teeth. "You'll die in this room."

"Oh, I think you're wrong," Charlie said with glee as the clumping of many booted feet reverberated up the tunnel. "You're about to be outnumbered."

Donatello swung towards the door, bo moving at lightening speed to disarm the first two mercenaries as they entered. Their guns flew across the room as their bodies hit the floor. Still, he was forced from the doorway step by step as they streamed in, sheer volume making him retreat.

Charlie waited until he backed within arm's reach and lunged to attack with a knife in his fist. Don dodged, but a sharp pain in his arm and hot liquid oozing over his elbow said the bastard got in a lucky swipe with the blade.

"Donnie!"

Morgan's shout made him turn, but she wasn't being attacked. Hargrove had staggered within reach of her chain. The young woman appeared from thin air, her face contorted in murderous fury as she landed on Charlie's back. She drew a dagger from his waistband and plunged it into his shoulder.

Blood fountained over her.

Charlie stopped his assault on Donatello to snatch at her. With a roar like an enraged bull, he grabbed her hair and threw her into the wall. She slid down, leaving a long bloody trail and lay twitching on the floor.

"NO!"

Don's outburst was interrupted by gunfire and screams further down the corridor, striking fear into the hearts of those still battling inside. The maddened genius wasn't distracted by his family's arrival.

He shouted in fury, taking out three more foes. His blows far less calculating and a lot more deadly. Lost in his anger, he broke bones and crushed skulls without pausing to consider the consequences. Until one of the mercenaries got the bright idea to point his weapon at Morgan.

A teenage Donatello might have frozen, even abandoned his weapons and surrendered, but years of hard decisions made in perilous situations taught him otherwise. A shuriken in the stomach made the man double over with a strangled cry. Don dropped his bo and let his left hand sweep the barrel of the gun toward the ceiling. The automatic weapon discharged harmlessly upward as his other fist struck a solid blow to the temple. The moron collapsed.

Despite the muzzle burn on his palm, Donnie expertly disassembled it, chucked the pieces at a nearby soldier, and knelt at Morgan's side. Shielding her from the rest of the violence with his body.

* * *

 _Where is she?_

As Raphael and Master Splinter backtracked frantically, the thought circled desperately in his head. Keeping time with the beat of his feet as they ran. Donnie hadn't called back with confirmation of her location. Maybe this wasn't the right direction.

 _What if she's in one of the other tunnels and I've abandoned her?_

She hadn't reached out to him since before they entered the tower and depending on Hargrove's reaction to the breach she might be dying or dead.

 _No. I won't be too late again. I can't._

They weren't even trying to be quiet now. Speed was more important as they followed the trail of symbols and bodies until they met up with his brothers. Seconds later, Leatherhead and Brenellean appeared behind.

The tunnel was barely wide enough for two abreast. His brothers' shells blocked the way and kept him from being able to see. He was ready to scream with uncertainty when they encountered a wall of armed men.

No one stopped. These men allied themselves with the person who ripped their family apart, so no quarter was given. Leonardo drew a single blade and plunged into the mass of humanity, carving a path. Mikey was right next to him, knocking gunmen back. Raphael was left few opportunities to engage, but every time he saw an opening, he shoved a sai through.

His heart skipped a beat then pounded so hard he thought it would leap from his throat when he heard the angel's voice rise above the commotion in an enraged cry.

"Donnie!"

The need to be with her on the other side of the wall was so desperate he did something without thinking, something he didn't know he could do. He threw his own aura through the stone and smacked into hers. Just as she collided bodily with something that did not give in the slightest.

Her presence flickered and went out.

* * *

For the first time, Hargrove worried, backing to the far wall as three more giant turtles fought their way in. They showed no fear of the men with guns and held ancient weapons coated in blood.

An enormous rat entered as well. Walking upright, it used its long disgusting tail and bare paws to remove obstacles twice its height. Charlie bit back a shriek. His hatred and anxiety of rodents freezing him in place.

Next came... Shock glazed his eyes. His mouth slowly dropped open.

 _A seven-foot crocodile?_

A man in some sort of medieval armor wielding a battle ax and a fox the size of a small pony rounded out the rescue party. Charlie's eyes bugged from his head.

 _Saki wasn't mad and he wasn't lying._

There was more than one freak of nature running around this city... and they were all deadly. The turtle marked in blue pointed a dripping red blade at his throat and he blinked in consternation.

 _A sword!_

"Where is she?" It demanded.

The red-banded one didn't wait for an answer. It surged forward the moment he entered the door, grabbing Charlie up by the neck in one massive fist. It squeezed as he choked and sputtered. Red and black spots appeared before him, fogging his vision as he kicked futilely at the shelled beast's chest.

"Raph... Raph -ael?"

The broken, whispered plea, interrupted by a cough, froze everyone in their tracks. The monster holding him spun toward the huge smear of blood marking where he had thrown the little bitch. At the time, he thought he might have killed her but the purple one knelt over her.

 _She must have made it after all._

* * *

Despite his pain. Despite his fury. Despite every instinct which told him to snap the man's neck before letting go, Raphael dropped the limp bundle of human bones without a second thought.

He was beside Morgan in a flash as her aura flared back into being, pulsing weakly against his own. His tender hands wiped at the red coating her face as she tilted it up to him. His expression twisting from relief to suppressed horror at all the spilled blood and the glazed look in her eyes

"It's not hers," Donnie reassured him. "Not most of it. She stabbed Charlie."

"He cut you," Morgan protested in a dazed whisper.

Her lungs were on fire. Drawing a full breath after having the wind knocked out of her so completely seemed impossible. And she was dizzy at the speed of her rescue.

Tears gathered in her eyes as she experienced a kind of intangible relief. The tie to Charlie was gone. His insidious link washed away with blood. They spilled over as her love continued to stroke her cheeks with his thumbs. Raphael's hands were incredibly gentle. He cupped each side of her face and stared into her eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

 _She's alive._

His breathing hitched as he fought to suppress too many emotions. She pressed her face to his palms as Don worked to remove her restraint with a lock pick.

"That's my girl." Raph forced the words out past the knot in his throat. "Won't wield a weapon to save herself, but threaten someone she loves..."

"She's fierce as a tiger," Donatello finished.

The hated metal cuff fell to the ground and Morgan threw her raw and bleeding arms around Raph's neck. He stood, trembling, and wrapped her in his embrace, cradling her close. For a long moment, he simply held her. Head bowed over her still shuddering form.

He was almost unable to grasp the fact she was here after such terrible grief. But he would have to address the sensations building up later. They were still in danger. Still inside the hideout of a madman.

He turned his attention to the group behind him.

Leonardo and Brenellean held Hargrove fast in the center of the room, arms twisted up behind his back. Both wore terrifying expressions of ominous conviction.

"Raph?" Leo asked. "What do you want to do with him?"

Raphael glanced down at the captive and snarled.

He locked eyes with his father, amber to dark, sure the wise master would give him some speech about restraint. Startled, he blinked as he saw permission there to do whatever was necessary to soothe his soul.

This demon tortured Splinter's daughter, damaged his son, and decimated their family. He earned a father's wrath. Raph met Leonardo's gaze and found steel, hardened and deadly. Don was grimly determined and even Michelangelo bore the resigned air of one who knows a job must be done.

He expected a fierce rage when faced at last with his love's tormenter. And he did experience a kind of dark menace growing within as he gazed at the man past Morgan's bloody face. But frankly...

He was exhausted.

The woman he loved and lost was back in his arms and he didn't fancy putting her down to beat a man to death in front of her. In fact, he didn't want to soil himself any further with the black-hearted rogue.

That didn't mean he'd let the guy live.

"Kill him," Raph ordered turning his shell and holding Morgan closer against his chest. "I don't want to touch that filth."

Leonardo drew a sword and forced Hargrove to his knees, grabbing his hair to expose his neck.

"Mercy," the man begged with tears in his eyes.

"This _is_ mercy," Leo said furiously. "You deserve a far less honorable, and more painful, death than the one I'm about to give you."

Brenellean snarled his agreement, hardly holding back his anger at not being able to return his sister's pain in kind.

"Wait," Raph said, turning back at Morgan's urgent request.

He lowered her to her feet in front of the villain, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around her waist for support as she stood and faced her longtime tormentor.

Charlie gaped up at her, hope in his face. He knew her, no matter what the turtle said. No vindictive bones and all that. She had stayed his execution. He would manipulate her soft heart until she set him free.

"Mercy," he said again, as pathetically as possible.

Morgan's unseeing gaze shifted from the kneeling Charlie, to her Feyian brother shaking with rage and tilted as if listening, then moved to the steadfast leader holding himself silent. Sword at the ready. Poised to carry out her bidding.

"Leonardo," she said, her voice soft but clear. "Leave him. Let's go home."

The room erupted in protests as the leader immediately dropped his hold and sheathed his weapon. Charlie smiled. Nine pairs of eyes snapped to her; some surprised, some angry, some wise with knowledge. But Morgan wasn't finished. She held up a hand and got instant silence.

"Brenna, " her tone didn't waver, still as gentle as when she addressed Leo. "As soon as we're gone..."

"Tear him apart."

* * *

Raphael carried Morgan out of the warren, up the twisting staircase and into the tower. The journey was long and slow for he was spent, but there was no way in hell he was going to let go of her.

She cried the whole way, hands hiding her face. Shuddering uncontrollably and whimpering she couldn't breathe. If Donnie hadn't been walking less than a foot away, reassuring him this was a normal reaction to severe shock, Raph thought he might have gone insane.

Three times on the long climb out, they stopped so she could throw up.

Dawn was peeking over the horizon when they finally reached the top, highlighting the glass of the skyscrapers in the distance. None of them had the strength to make their way home through the sewers, so it would be a short wait until the Battle-Shell arrived via remote to pick them up. Most were content to sit in the tower, but Morgan begged him to take her outside.

It took less than a second for him to agree, despite the time. At this moment, he would give her anything.

 _The general public be damned._

Leonardo, surprisingly, uttered no protest. Silently joining them as they hurried across the asphalt to a tree covered strip of grass starting to green in the early March warmth. A location where they remained mostly out of sight. Leo crossed his arms over his chest and turned his back. Eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any straggling Foot, or other possible threats, as he took up guard duty.

Raphael laid Morgan tenderly on the grass. Instantly, she turned away and shoved her face into the earth, inhaling the clean scents of nature.

"Just breathe, love," he murmured as she lost herself in panic, sitting beside her and stroking her back.

He didn't know what else to say. Sorry didn't even begin to cover it. But if he didn't speak now, he feared the silence would grow until it was a wall he could never breach. His brother gave him an encouraging nod. One Raph read as "Say something, anything, to get started."

"We'll get you out of here soon," he said. "You can have a long, hot shower and wash this- this filth -from you."

She made no reply and he struggled to continue.

"Morgan... angel. I'm so sorry."

He took one of her bandaged hands in his own. Donatello patched her up as best he could in the dark before the climb, wrapping the lacerations from the manacles in clean gauze and washing her face with bottled water. But it would be a long while before his beautiful angel was herself again.

 _Unless she lets me love her. But will she trust me enough for that?_

"I let you down. I broke the vows I swore to keep you safe. I couldn't even kill the devil myself. Can you ever forgive me?"

His plea made her turn and he winced at the sight of her red-rimmed, swollen eyes and the bruises spawning across her face in the morning light. But her expression was not one of anger. Her eyes were wide with shock, sick with guilt.

"It wasn't your fault," she said, seeming a bit dazed. "I'm the one who insisted on being part of the rescue. I'm the one who didn't know who my friends were. You were injured," she tilted her face towards Leo then the tower. "The whole family was hurt because of me. And I..." Tears slid down her cheeks once more. "I shouldn't have done that to Charlie. I wanted him to _suffer_. To feel the pain he put us through." She dropped her face back into the ground, hiding again.

"I don't blame you. I blame myself. I'm not an angel. I'm a monster."

"Bullshit," Raphael said fiercely. "Angels are warriors. Survivors. As deadly as they are beautiful." The thrum in his chest roared to life and he gathered her up, unresisting, into his arms. "I never saw you as some innocent little cherub. You've always been more. Today you were an avenger."

He kissed her tears away, despite the dirt smeared across her face. His lips landing at last on her own with such passion and pure joy at her survival she could not doubt him. And as the rising sun warmed her skin, Raphael melted her heart.

She clutched his shoulders and pulled herself close, returning his kiss with an ardor he could not question. She only drew away when Leonardo laid a hand on Raph's shoulder with a slight smile.

"Our ride is here," he said. "Let's go home."


	40. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"I would have a report, daughter, on your activities."

In his informal receiving area, the Shredder was only slightly less intimidating. He removed his mask and stared haughtily but without antagonism at his adopted child over the top of a small tea table. Karai was showing initiative in their ancient war. He had waited a long time for such a move, but whether it was for or against him, was uncertain.

"You followed Hargrove. What did you find?"

Karai bowed low before meeting his expectant gaze with a calm stare.

"He was planning a revolt, Master. He could not recruit the local gangs, so he hired international mercenaries and was equipping them in secret in an underground waystation outside our territory." Her eyes narrowed in ferocious indignation. "I engaged his troops and found them wanting. On the field, they may have been formidable wolves, but unprepared in their den they folded like cubs. They will trouble us no further."

She lowered her eyes and remained standing, waiting for his next question.

"And Hargrove?"

"My forces did not engage him directly, but in a final sweep of the compound my men found what was left of the traitor. I believe the Hamatos took their revenge for the death of one under their protection."

"You mean Morgan?"

Karai shrugged. "If that was her name."

"Are you certain the remains were his? He is wily and I expect could easily falsify his own demise."

She bowed again, not letting any of her trepidation show as memories of horrendous screams echoing through the tunnels reverberated in her mind. She had not allowed her forces to investigate until the sounds died away completely.

"Yes, Master Shredder. The head was entirely intact, though the rest of the man was nothing but strips of flesh, pools of blood, and broken bone."

The Shredder smiled. Something few outside of his daughter had ever seen.

"I warned him about crossing the Hamato clan. For once our enemies have done us a service." His expression sobered and his interest became more intense. "Did you see the Turtles? Or the girl? Hargrove was hiding more than simple rebellion. If she is alive, we may yet recover her. I wish to understand how she reacts to the serum. Stockman wants further tests. Perhaps the healing potion can be modified in some way for my own army."

Such an inquiry was not unexpected.

She had observed the Hamatos' arrival and purposefully drawn the guards to the far side of the complex. It was the only way she could assist in their revenge and ensure the Foot did not become Leonardo's next target.

The last thing they needed was a new blood feud to reignite the old.

The ferocity of Hargrove's death convinced her the girl must be truly gone, despite her father's suspicions. But as her men pulled out, they reported another sighting. Two of the Turtles and a woman covered in gore under the trees near the tower. She had investigated, but by the time she arrived, the three were gone.

 _If Morgan lives, best keep her out of sight, my honorable enemies..._

Karai locked eyes with her father and lied without changing expression a hair.

"I did not."

* * *

"Stop frowning at me, big guy," Morgan said. "I'm just sick. I'm not gonna keel over."

It had been three months since her return to the lair and every day Raphael woke with a start and held her tight for a long time. Normally, that wasn't a problem. She loved waking in his protective embrace and it usually led to quite an enjoyable morning.

But the last few days, she didn't feel so well and today, she bolted out of bed- running for the toilet as if her life depended on it. He followed her, of course, gathering her hair and holding it out of the way as she was noisily ill, then hovering and offering her a glass of water to rinse her mouth.

"Sick is not supposed to happen, 'member?" He said. "You're supposed to be in perfect health after we, uh..."

"Make love?" She prompted.

She laughed knowingly as he flushed a deep green. As worldly as he was, speaking of their sex life outside the bedroom still made him blush. Inside the bedroom, though... Now her cheeks colored as she remembered some of the crazily intimate things he said to her.

"Right," he said, not letting her distract him. "You shouldn't be sick. You gonna be ok here for second? I'm getting Donnie."

She sighed, but nodded and let him fetch his brother. Being examined was never going to be her favorite thing, but she could handle a check up as long as it was Donatello doing the assessment.

A short, confident rap at the door let her know the genius had arrived.

"You, stay out there," Don said to a sputtering Raphael. "The bathroom isn't big enough for us all and you asked me to take a look."

He shut the door in his brother's face before turning to Morgan where she sat on the edge of the tub.

"What's up sweetie?"

"Sweating, nausea, vomiting... I've been feeling ill a few days, but this is the first time I was actually sick. I'd blame food poisoning from that awful Chinese take-out but you guys all ate the same thing."

"We can't rule it out, though," Donatello said while checking her vitals. His gentle hands took her pulse, lifted her eyelids and felt the glands beneath her chin. "We've got cast iron stomachs. You don't."

"Well, I'm better now, so maybe that's it."

"Humor me," Donnie said.

Morgan smiled as he tucked a thermometer under her tongue but frowned as he hummed over the results.

"What?"

"A small increase in temperature," he said. "Probably nothing. But..."

She sighed. "Blood sample?"

"I'd like to run one to be sure. It doesn't have to be large, a few drops on a slide should do it."

He held out the glass and she pricked her finger with a sterile needle he offered. She waited while he lowered his special goggles into place, running who knows how many tests simultaneously. He whistled and she raised her brows.

"Your white blood count is up as is your... hCG."

"What's that mean?"

She waved her hand at him when he didn't answer right away. "Donnie?"

"I'm gonna need to build some more equipment," he muttered.

"What?"

A note of panic entered her voice and Don immediately turned back to her.

"Everything's going to be OK," he said. "It's a little earlier than I expected but I'll stay on top of this and-"

"On top of what, Donnie?"

Excitedly, he knelt to her level, took her hand and stared into her eyes.

"Congratulations," he said, patting her hand. "You're going to be an excellent mother."

* * *

 **Here ends ' _Whispers in the Dark_ '. ****Stay tuned for more adventures**

 **with Morgan and our heros in** **' _Fearless_.'**

 **A taste is below... the rest is** **coming soon!**

* * *

 **In the past... Feudal Japan, 1601**

A small girl child of seven or eight, with shorn hair and a short gray frock, appeared to peek cautiously around the next house, checking the street in front of her for trouble. Her golden eyes remained slitted for a split second, before morphing into the round pupils of the humans around her and darkening to a soft chocolate brown.

Now there was nothing to give her away.

Stealthily she crept through the ancient town; dark mud caking on her bare feet, splashing up her ankles, and coating her calves. In the chaos before the battle, it wasn't hard to make her way to the golden palace and slip in. She was small enough now to fit through the bars of the rear gate and no one spared a second glance as she strode boldly through the gardens. With an attack imminent, no one had time to worry about a street urchin wandering about the grounds.

Inside the manor, they ignored her as well, even as she drifted through opulent halls where her peasant garments screamed she did not belong. She didn't pause to admire the walls, adorned as they were with meticulous paintings. Mostly, these delicate friezes on rice paper screens illustrated the history of the ruling family, outlining the hereditary lands and the greatness of their name.

She already knew all of that, but if one peered closely, her likeness could be found occasionally amongst the intricate designs. She stopped, staring at one unsubtle rendering close to the floor and snorted. This artist had never actually seen her. The colors were wrong and he didn't even capture her wings in his depiction.

As she stood critiquing the work, a small boy peeked out of a nearby room to stare. The only one to notice how out of place she seemed in his home. Yet she didn't seem impressed by the grandness of the palace. And he wondered what about the painting held her attention so firmly when all the adults around them ran and scuttled about like lost crabs.

In all the hustle and bustle her stillness was magnetic.

Obviously, she didn't fear whatever had caused the uproar and he felt the need to follow her courageous example. Slowly, so as not to ruin the moment, he crept into the busy hallway to her side to see what she was examining. When he saw the picture he understood.

She didn't move or even glance up as Yoshi came to stand beside her and, greatly daring, reached out his hand and took hers. Without the slightest hesitation, she entwined their fingers and together they stood staring straight at the image in front of them, neither regarding the other.

"This one's my favorite," he whispered when the silence grew too heavy.

She did not reply for so long he began to wonder if she knew how to speak, but eventually, she uttered a single word.

"Why?"

"It's the only one where the Guardian is down low enough for me to see," he admitted. "Someday, when I'm older, I'm going to find it and ask it to teach me. I want to be a protector."

He risked a stealthy glance at her face, hoping she didn't think his ambition amusing since everybody knew he really couldn't be anything but the prince and heir.

Their eyes caught and she suppressed a gasp. His were a beautiful combination of grey and blue, like the sea after a storm. A color which appeared in the family line only once in a dozen generations. They projected an innocent determination, reminding her forcefully of why she adopted the clan in the first place.

When she said nothing, his gaze returned to the painting and his other hand traced the gleaming lines of the beast in reverent awe. Very few families had a physical Guardian. Many had spiritual or ancestral ones, but the Hamato line had been blessed with an entity who intervened directly when the continuation of the clan was threatened, at least, according to legend.

"You believe in the Guardian?" she asked and he nodded with endearing eagerness.

"It makes me feel safe."

"Your guards and teachers don't?"

He shrugged a little sadly, already wise beyond his years.

"They are only here because the regent requires them, but the Guardian protects my family because they are a part of it."

His quiet statement tugged at her heart. This young prince had lost his whole life. Parents, cousins, uncles, the entire rest of his clan had been quietly removed by the regent, one by one. The only thing he had left to cling too was a name and a myth.

A legend which now stood beside him.

She nodded thoughtfully deciding right then, to reveal herself. It was against the rules, but he had no one else. He deserved the comfort of the truth, but she could not show him here. There were too many eyes and not enough space.

"I bet with all this commotion, the Guardian is nearby," she said instead. "We should go search for it!"

The prince's eyes lit up and a huge smile crossed his little face. He nodded wildly in anticipation of such an adventure and with a gentle tug, she towed him down the hall toward the exit.

It wasn't long before she revealed her true form, exposing herself as his beloved Guardian. They stayed together for several weeks and she adored her little prince, but ultimately she was called to account and forced to place him in a more permanent home.

She didn't want to leave him. In so short a time, she cherished him as her own. But the role of Guardian had strict rules, enforced with an iron fist. She was meant to love the line, not any particular individual in it and she would be removed if she continued to interact with little Yoshi in defiance of tradition.

She vividly remembered the day she left him, clutching the hem of the robes of an old man. It was in a beautiful forest, far from the province of his birth. She worried for him, but the elder had a granddaughter who swore on her honor to watch over him.

Mitsu was true to her word. Yoshi grew, prospered, learned to fight, and lived a long, full life. He married, founded a large family and died without ever seeing her again.

But tales of her endured within the clan as myths and legends are want to do...

 **New York, NY - present day**

Leonardo knelt briefly at the shrine in the dojo and dropped his head, muttering the ritual phrases for assistance. He did not speak his wishes aloud, but his thoughts screamed for aid. Not only for what he was about to attempt but for the whole situation in which they found themselves.

It was dangerous.

Tonight, he risked losing himself and weakening the family. But it was necessary, for that same family's future was in peril. He raised steely, blue-grey eyes to the shrine filled with determination and blinked softly in surprise.

For one moment, the candle dimmed, then flared. Had his pleas been heard?

Whether they had or not, it was time to go or he would be late for his meeting. Gathering himself, his weapons, and his hope; he left the dojo and the lair. Evading his family. Silent as a shadow.

Behind him, the flame on the altar flickered and went out.


End file.
